Luke's, Saturday
Who was Luke? Luke was a smoky bar on a rainy summer evening filled with the wail of a lonely sax. Luke was a classy dame with a box of matches and a story to tell. Luke was money to burn and living with regret in the light of a sun that never, ever rose.
. . . Okay, honestly, Pinkie had no idea who Luke was. The name was already on this joint when she bought it, and she thought it gave the place an aura of mystery, so she kept it.
Whoever he was, Luke's name was on one classy establishment, boasting live music and the highest quality caviar and bubbly (soda, that is, at least 'til Pinkie knows you ain't a squealer). If you're feeling lucky, there's a poker game or two to be had -- at least right up until the moment the cops show up.
. . . Okay, honestly, Pinkie had no idea who Luke was. The name was already on this joint when she bought it, and she thought it gave the place an aura of mystery, so she kept it.
Whoever he was, Luke's name was on one classy establishment, boasting live music and the highest quality caviar and bubbly (soda, that is, at least 'til Pinkie knows you ain't a squealer). If you're feeling lucky, there's a poker game or two to be had -- at least right up until the moment the cops show up.