Farzan crossed his arms. “For what?”
“We’re not sure,” Arya admitted. “We’ll figure that out as we go.”
“You’ve barely answered the group chat,” Ramin said. “And I heard… well, Todd went to get carryout the other night, and I guess he ran into Mr. Tran, and he said…”
Ramin’s cheeks colored. He looked to Arya for help.
“He said you told him to go ahead and sell to someone else?”
Farzan’s ears began to burn, the back of his neck, too.
But he couldn’t ask them to keep holding out, hoping he’d get his shit together or find some other way to raise money. They couldn’t put their lives on hold for him.
“What was I supposed to do?”
“You only tried one bank,” Arya said. “You could—”
“What, go door to door, getting punched in the balls over and over because ‘restaurants are a risky investment’? No thanks.” Farzan reached for a red velvet donut. “Maybe my parents were right. Maybe I should’ve let the restaurant go. If I close down, they and the Trans can both sell, probably get more for the whole building anyway. I can go back to subbing or whatever.”
He’d been thinking about it all night. Yeah, the expansion had fallen through, but now he was burning the rice, messing up people’s paychecks. He was letting everyone down.
“You can’t be serious,” Arya said around a cherry-iced cake donut. Pink icing and sprinkles stuck to his lips. “That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard.”
“Wait.” Ramin rested a hand on Farzan’s arm. “What do you mean, you don’t want to do this anymore? Running the restaurant?”
Farzan massaged his temples. “I don’t think I’m cut out for this.”
“But…” Arya began.
Ramin cut him off. “You’re joking, right? You know the bistro is doing better than it has in years? I’ve seen the numbers. That’s not random. That’s you. Your hard work.”
“Yeah, but it’s still not enough, is it?” Farzan said. “It’ll never be enough. And I… I’m not good at it. You know last night I fucked up the payroll? Had to run back to the bank before they closed, the same bank that denied me a loan last month, and you know how fucking humiliating that was? To march in and ask them to do a rush job on checks because I’d messed up? It just confirmed to them they’d been right to say no in the first place.”
Farzan’s hand went to his hair, but it was too short to run his hands through.
Arya snorted as he clocked the motion. “That’s what you get for having the Ramin haircut.”
“Hey!” Ramin threw a donut hole at Arya. “I like it.”
Arya arched an eyebrow. Ramin blushed and turned back to Farzan. “It’s not really you, though.”
“Whatever. It doesn’t matter.” Farzan stuffed half a glazed donut into his mouth, gulped down a mouthful of hot tea. Carbs were so good. They didn’t solve anything, but at least his head felt a little better. “I should’ve known it would turn out this way. I always fuck everything up.”
Ramin smacked the table so loud their tea glasses rattled.
“Dude—” Arya began, but Ramin cut him off.
“Don’t you say that. That’s my best friend you’re talking about. You don’t fuck everything up.” His eyes were narrowed, brows drawn together.
“Yeah,” Arya said. “Where’s all this coming from? I thought you were happy.”
“I was,” Farzan said. “I felt like I was finally doing something right, you know? Something meaningful. But I don’t know… every day it’s just been getting worse. Like, it’s fine when I’m in the kitchen, but it’s not just being in the kitchen. It’s spreadsheets and payroll and inventory and a thousand other things, and I’m not cut out for it.”
No, that wasn’t it. Farzan was cut out for it… mostly. He’d handled it. But…
“I hate it. It’s exhausting. And now I barely even have time to do any cooking. You know I burned some tahdig yesterday? I don’t burn tahdig! I just… I can’t keep doing this.”
Arya and Ramin stared at him.
