In this sequel to FROM HERE
TO 14TH STREET, Vita and Tom McGlory and their three children are
struggling to make ends meet.
It's 1932. Prohibition rages,
the Depression ravages, and Billy McGlory comes of age whether he wants to or
not. Musical and adventurous, Billy dreams of having his own ritzy supper club
and big band. On the eve of his marriage to the pregnant Prudence, the shifty
"businessman" Rosario Ingovito offers him all that and more. Fame,
fortune, his own Broadway musical…it's all his for the taking, despite Pru's
opposition to Rosie's ventures.
Meanwhile, Pru's artistic career gains momentum and their child is born. Can anything go wrong for Billy? Only when he gets in way over his head does he stop to wonder how his business partner really makes his millions, but by then it's far too late…
Meanwhile, Pru's artistic career gains momentum and their child is born. Can anything go wrong for Billy? Only when he gets in way over his head does he stop to wonder how his business partner really makes his millions, but by then it's far too late…
Excerpt:
Heading south on Madison Avenue, I
heard the siren. I glanced into the rearview mirror and saw the unmistakable
Greyhound radiator ornament of the Lincoln behind me. Cop car. All the
gangsters drove Lincolns, which had a top speed of 80, so the cops had to get
Lincolns to keep up with them. I tried to get the hell out of his way—he
must've been going to a robbery or a diner or something. I pulled over, and he
pulled up next to me. Oh, shit. It was me he was after.
I rolled down
the window and asked sweetly, "Yes, sir, what can I do for you, sir?"
"License
and registration please."
"Uh—what's
wrong, officer? Did I commit a traffic violation?" As the son of the
ex-Chief of Police, I should have been real comfortable around cops, but to
tell the truth, they scared the hell out of me. The cops my father knew weren't
the crooked ones. They were the straightassed ones, just like him, who fought
Tammany and made a career out of busting crooks. They didn't have a price, like
the rest of them. Hardnosed bastards, some were frustrated politicians and not
smart enough to get into law school, so they enforced the laws from behind
their badges. Hell, I was all for law and order, but these guys sometimes took
it too far. "Your back license plate is missing."
Relief drained
me. "Oh, drat. It must've got stolen. You know this city—just crawlin'
with thieves."
"License
and registration, please," he repeated, in what passed for a more menacing
cop voice. Now he assumed his cop stance, pudgy fists on meaty hips, waiting
while I dug through the glove compartment, tossing aside all the crumpled up
sheet music and junk crammed in there. Oh, that's where my emergency pack of
cigarettes was, and that old box of prophylactics! But damned if I couldn't
find the registration.
"Uh—I
can't find it, but it's my car, honest. I mean, it was a gift to me, but it's
been paid for, it's not stolen or anything. I can probably find it in my
penthouse. You wanna follow me there? It's only two blocks aw—"
"Step out
of the car, please."
Uh-oh. I felt
my bowels burning. I had two briefcases bulging with two shitloads of money in
the back seat.
He poked his
head into the car. "What's in the briefcases?"
"Uh—I
dunno. I'm doing an errand for somebody."
"Yeah,
I'll bet you dunno. Step aside, please."
"Hey, you
got a search warrant?" I demanded.
But demanding
a search warrant from a New York City cop was like demanding a shot of Scotch
from Satan in the middle of Hell.
I didn't want
to look. I turned my head and flattened my palms on the roof of the car, like I
was being searched. I heard the clicks as he sprang the latches and his
not-so-surprised "mm-hmmm" as he checked out the contents.
"Who you
doing this errand for, sonny boy?"
What was with
the "sonny boy"? He wasn't much older than me. I knew he just wanted
to put me down. Screw that. I've been called a lot worse by much better cops
than him. He obviously didn't know who I was. "Uh—I'd better get a lawyer
or something."
"You'd
better come with me."
"Look,
uh—you wanna just take a few bills outta there and forget it?” I asked, real
generously. “I mean, uh—we're all in this mess together, ya know—"
"Bribing
an officer of the law is a very serious offense, sonny boy. You'll have to come
with me. Park your car there, please."
"Here?
But there's a hydrant here. I'll get a ticket."
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