Finally Ramin said, “You know… your dad hated all that stuff, too. That’s why he stayed in the kitchen and let your mom deal with all of it.”
“Yeah, and like…” Arya pressed his lips together. “Okay, don’t tell your mom I said this, but she’s just not as good a cook. She doesn’t need to be, though. She’s like a human calculator.”
“So?” Farzan already knew all that. It’s what made his parents such good partners.
“So you keep trying to do the job of two people at once,” Ramin said. “Why not hire a manager so you can focus on being the chef? That’s what you’re passionate about.”
“That’s what you’regoodat,” Arya pointed out. “And don’t you dare call yourself a fuckup in the kitchen, or I will throw your best pot out the window.”
“With what money? Yeah, we’re doing okay, but not okay enough to just… suddenly hire a manager. At least, not with enough salary to get a good one. If I’d gotten the loan, maybe, but…”
“What if I bought in?” Ramin asked.
“What if you… what?”
“Hey, yeah, me too,” Arya said. “We could be your partners.”
“You two both have jobs.”
“Fine, we can be your silent partners,” Ramin said. “We bring the capital. You keep running the place.”
“I can’t take your money.” Farzan knew Ramin had the resources—he’d gotten a decent inheritance from his parents, plus he was making good money at his job, especially after his latest promotion—but still. He never let friends and finances mix.
“You wouldn’t be taking it,” Ramin said. “We’d all benefit from the profits, right? We could draw up a contract and everything.”
“Yeah. That could work,” Arya said. “With the extra capital I bet you could buy the Trans’ placeandhire a manager to help you run everything.”
“You guys don’t get it!” Farzan said.
“Don’t get what?” Arya asked.
“This was my family’s legacy. I was supposed to be able to do it on my own.”
Ramin said, “Your parents didn’t do it on their own. They had each other. And they had our parents, too. Lots of people helped them. Hell, you helped them too, waiting tables when we were in high school. Don’t you remember?”
“Yeah, but—”
“So why won’t you let us—your best friends—support you? Why do you think you have to go it alone?”
“Because,” Farzan said, but his throat constricted.
His friends were too good. He didn’t know what he’d done to deserve them. That they’d just offer up money for the bistro without even blinking. Without considering all the ways it could go wrong.
“Because I couldn’t stand it if the whole thing blows up and we weren’t friends anymore. If it was my fault that your futures were ruined.”
“Are you sure you’re still talking about the bistro?” Ramin asked softly.
“What?” Farzan’s neck started heating up again.
“I don’t know, dude.” Arya eyed Ramin’s plate for a second before sliding a chocolate-frosted donut onto it. “That sounds a lot like what you said about David, too.”
“I’m not… this has nothing to do with him.”
“Maybe it’s all part of the same problem, though.” Ramin picked at his donut but fixed Farzan with his gaze. The morning light caught in his green eyes. “You’re my best friend. You have been for most of my life. You’ve shown me—shown both of us—time and time again who you are. Someone we can count on. But you won’t count on us to help you out. You didn’t even give us the chance to say yes. And you didn’t give David the chance, either.”
“So what if I say yes? What if you both go in on the bistro and then it closes anyway? What if it’s a huge disaster and all your savings are wiped out?”
“So what?” Arya said.
