If you ever saw something that you were sure you imagined or heard a sound that no one else did - then you know what it's like to attend a show starring the Novaks.
"A magical act so spectacular, it had to be real."
An oh so common statement after...
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If the Millstreet Bar was where locals went in Old Glasgow to have a drink, Franco's Steakhouse was where they went to have a cocktail. If you were a 'someone' in Old Glasgow, you could be found in Franco's on a Saturday night. This was not your typical steakhouse. Franco's dished out their meats all-you-can-eat style with servers circling the floor and carving meat onto your plate.
Grandpa Novak waited for the rest of the Novak family to hit the hay before he and Luke headed to Franco's. Liberally-seasoned grilled meat sent a cloud of smoke through the restaurant that filled it with an aroma of exotic spices and mouth-watering flavor. Business owners, single women and even Mayor Bill Littlesmith were all enjoying a plate of Brazilian meats on this particular night.
Grandpa Novak and Luke sat at the bar where an MLB baseball game that had gone into extra innings was airing. Next to them was an incredibly loud man dressed in a checkered suit. The loud man called out every pitch before the pitcher threw it and credited himself as correct. This annoyed Grandpa Novak. The loud man's friend referred to him as Butch. Grandpa Novak did his best to ignore Butch and enjoy a nice long meal with Luke.
The server approached the bar with a plate full of juicy chicken. "Yes, please," Luke said with his plate extended out.
Grandpa Novak whacked Luke's wrist with his fork. "I told you to wait for the steak, boy. Don't get full on the chicken. They'll bring more."
Luke piled the chicken into his mouth. "Don't worry. I won't lose my appetite."
"You can really eat, I'll give you that." Grandpa Novak rubbed his stomach. "I am throwing in the towel." Grandpa Novak slowly sipped the last bit of scotch in his rock glass, letting it coat his mouth.
"Curveball, right here!" Butch hollered. "What I tell you?" Grandpa Novak gritted his teeth as Butch continued to loudly guess pitches.
The server came by with a plate of filet mignon steaks. "There you go. Load up," Grandpa Novak instructed.
And Luke did just that. "Lord, this is good."
"I'm glad you're enjoying it, boy. I'm surprised you never indulged at this splendid establishment."
"I know, right?" Luke replied. "Lived here my whole life, too."
"Your entire life in one town?" Grandpa Novak asked.
"Yeah. It's not so bad though. My dad always said it takes a village to raise a child."
"I agree, but my village was always on the move. We'd travel forty, sometimes even fifty, in a tribe."
"Tribe? Is that some kind of magician thing?" Luke asked.
"Huh? Oh yeah. Magician thing."
"Now it's just the six of you. Small village," Luke said.
