Black Network
Sophia picked up her empty plate and walked over to the sink, leaving Lina alone at the table.
Thick smoke drifted across the concrete yard of the East Pier, carrying the heavy, greasy scent of roasting beef and burning charcoal.
Dozens of men were crowded around rusted steel oil drums that had been hacked open with saws and turned into makeshift grills. Iron Anchor dockworkers, their shirts stained with sweat, mixed with Dominic hardened street operators, laughing and clinking glass bottles against metal wrenches.
Ivan flipped a massive, thick cut of steak with a pair of iron tongs. Grease splattered onto the white-hot coals, sending a flare of yellow fire licking up into the night.
Bab Populer