Flip Side Prologue

I wanted to give you all a sneak peek at the current novel I’m working on that should be out before the end of the year, Flip Side.


My story starts out pretty much like most, I guess. I was nobody special- a beat cop, walked the straight and narrow. Had a wife I didn’t cheat on. Had a kid I played ball with in the back yard on Sundays after church. You know, a typical nine ta five schmoe.

Then my kid got sick. Something was eating him up on the inside. Docs said there was nothing they could do, not on a flatfoot’s salary. My kid dies. My wife, she can’t handle it, so she takes the easy way out by putting my service revolver in her mouth.

Prohibition passes, the market crashes, and what they’re now calling the “Great Depression” hits like a wrecking ball.

The Families get organized and kick things into high gear. The law scrambles to keep up, and it’s a prime opportunity for cops that don’t have whatcha’d call moral hang-ups. All my life I walked the straight and narrow, and I think to myself, what has it gotten me? A dead kid. A dead wife. A crummy salary with a weak pension that barely covers what I need to get by. So I start to thinking that maybe the crooked path might be worth a shot.

I tell myself it’s not a question of morality, it’s a question of pragmatism.

So I make detective and start playing as an inside man for the other team. I hook up with a family and make good dough. I run with fast women and drive fast cars. Every once in a while I get to rough up some wise guy that don’t know how to pay on time or who don’t toe the “family line”. I like it. I like it a lot. I start wondering why I didn’t take this path sooner. I start wondering why I ever bothered trying to be a good man. I think: being bad is so much more fun; being bad makes so much more sense.

Then the demon comes calling one night, and my story gets a whole lot more interesting…

Coming Soon

Copyright © J.R. Broadwater 2012

All rights reserved

All the characters are fictitious, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

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