part0033

Shiv Naren Pal was good at those. He’d done it at seven, when his mother had walked out on his dad and him with her oncologist boss at the nursing practice where she worked. He’d done it again at seventeen, just as he was about to graduate high school and one tiny error in judgment had almost, almost cost him his future.

Now, eleven years later, he was about to do it again. He just hoped one of his oldest friends and current part-time employer would see it that way. Shiv was hopeful but he was also prepared. He had the money and the data to back up his plan. His fresh start.

"Explain to me once again. What it is that you want?” Dev asked, while he tipped chairs back at GWBG’s, the bar he owned. Dev Banerjee was a stand-up guy. The only man Shiv could count on, apart from Kit. And Kit was, well... he was family.

Shiv stacked the chairs on the tables and gave the legs a good wipe down with the dishtowel tucked in his jeans waistband. He considered how best to answer Dev.

“I want to run GWBG. I want co-ownership of the bar.” Even saying the words, slowly and carefully sent a jolt through him.

I want to run a bar. I want co-ownership and all the responsibilities and million headaches that come with it. Shiv had never thought he’d want this for himself. Content to be a rolling stone, drifting from loft to studio to a two-bedroom sublet, lugging his survival kit duffel bag with him that contained all he needed to make a living. Make a life.

Dev gave him a mild look. “I heard that the first ten times you told me, bro. I am just trying to process what this means to you. What do you want, Shiv?”

Shiv stopped the wipe down and moved to another table. Having practically taken over management when Dev had flown down a few months ago to Chicago to ‘help out’ the love of his life, he was more familiar with the bar’s cool down routine than ever.

Stack chairs on tables. Wipe down. Check inventory. For which he had instituted a simple, cost-efficient RFID tag system that only needed a barcode scanner and a handheld tablet. See that the kitchen was completely shut down, have a pep talk with the bartenders if required after splitting tips. Switch off everything and, after turning on the alarm, leave.

So he took his time answering, stepping into the alcove that held the handheld and scanner. He started the inventory check. Dev had taken to sweeping the confetti and paper streamers and cheese string (yuck!) that a few too-enthusiastic patrons had liberally sprayed the tiled floor with.

Shiv didn’t blame them. It wasn’t every day that the bar owner got the happy ever after of his dreams like Dev had yesterday.

“I can double your profits in three quarters. Less, if I am allowed to hold hackathons in the back.”

“No.” Dev’s answer was unequivocal. “No more hacking for you. You’ve gone straight. You swore to Kit and me and the rest of the gang. No going back on that, Shiv.” Dev used his own towel to wipe down the spindly legs of a chair.

Shiv considered cursing, but Dev was right. His friends were right. He had promised them. Well, he had more or less announced that he was finally going legit. And that had been as good as an oath for their gang. They were going to hold him to it. Period.

“These would be legit hackathons. Like the ones sponsored by corporates and accelerators, which our fair state of California abounds in. It could be our version of Games Night or Ladies’ Night.” Shiv grinned, his eyes taking on a gleam that Dev did not like. “We could have Ladies Hackathon Nights. Drink for free, code for free.”

If Dev’s entrepreneur heart buzzed at the idea of using this new twist on ladies nights and giving it a tech angle, he didn’t show it. He just gave Shiv a look. The Look. The look that Kit had bequeathed him when he realized Shiv was staying back in California after graduating Caltech and not moving to Chicago with him, as they had originally discussed.

“If you’d just tell me what you want to hear, I’d say it Dev,” Shiv shot back. He was done with inventory. They were running low on tequila, (like that was news!) and he quickly made a side note on the tab. The order form from their regular vendor appeared and he filled it in.

Yeah, he’d streamlined inventory alright. It had taken him like a cool two hours to do it and he’d had so much fun doing it.

“You know, I think Bharat would get a kick playing around with this system,” he murmured. “Give it a kick so we don’t have to manually order up booze every time. Automated replenishment. Wouldn’t that shave off time we could better utilize elsewhere?”

“You’re presuming that we will always need copious amounts of tequila. Isn’t that a faulty premise?”

Shiv held up a bottle of Jose Cuervo in mock-salute. “You’re kidding, right? This is a bar. We are always going to need copious amounts of tequila.”

Dev stopped the wipe down and stared at Shiv. He looked thoughtful. Shiv could feel a flush creeping up his neck at the scrutiny. To combat his intense awkwardness he said, “If you don’t want to, it’s okay. I am cool with it. It was just an idea. A notion. And a bad one at that.”

“Shiv,” Dev said quietly. “Will you stop fronting with me for one second and get real? I can see this place obviously means a lot to you. I should have realized it when you started making system upgrades without consulting me.” He gave the younger man a wry smile. “But I built Geeks Will Be Geeks from seed money given to me by you and Kit, Nico, and Rohan. I could not have done anything without you guys. This place… It’s not just my business or my career. It’s—”

Shiv laid down the tablet and the scanner. Checked the number of whiskey brands they were stocked up on. Fourteen on the pricier side, twelve mid-range, and three that might as well be water. The mid-range ones had more margins but actually cost less. It was your classic rule of averages at work. When you give people the option of something too cheap or too expensive, they always went for the middle option.

“Can we do multiple choice with this then? Give me my options and I’ll try and be straight with you.”

Dev didn’t answer. He continued finishing the wipe down. And Shiv bit off a curse. “Damn it, Dev. Why does everything have to be about communication with you?”

“Because, you don’t talk enough, Shiven.” It was a shortening of his first and middle names. Which meant Dev was heart attack-level serious.

Shiv vaulted the three feet bar, and landed on the other side on his knees. Dev whistled as he was meant to. Not many people could pull off the bar vault. Shiv stood up, dusting confetti and cheese string off his palms. “These people do not know how to party,” he commented.

“You had sole custody of that cheese string can.” At Shiv’s sheepish smile, Dev sighed. Relented the tiniest bit. “Sit down. Talk to me like an adult instead of the introverted man-child you pretend to be. And we might have a deal.”

They pulled out two chairs from the nearest table. Shiv gripped his palms, now sticky with goop and paper.

“I…” His throat felt uncomfortably tight. “I want to be better than what I’ve been so far. Adult. I want to have a home. A life. I want…” he hesitated as he revealed the deepest, most personal thing about him, “roots.”

Dev reached out and gripped his knee. His jeans were faded at the stress points, so Shiv was able to feel the comforting pressure of his friend’s hand. It gave him the courage to finish saying what he had to say. “I know Kit expects me to go back to Chicago and start over with him. But I can’t. This place.”

He waved a hand to the closed door which was painted a garish neon pink and had a picture of a nearly naked, sexy bombshell strategically holding a laptop. GWBG was written on the laptop’s decal. It was cute and kitschy and the patrons loved it.

“This place is home for me. I belong here. And I want to… belong here. Here,” he repeated softly.

“I assume you’ve worked out the financials of it all?” Dev was confident enough that the question was largely rhetorical.

Shiv nodded. “I have. I have enough for a down payment on the bar for now. I was hoping to get one of you to co-sign a loan for the rest. From a bank.”

“A loan,” Dev mused. “As opposed to just bypassing the network security at Bank of America and wreaking sweet hell on some poor unsuspecting schmuck’s accounts.” Shiv had actually done it once, on a dare. Dev had seen him create something that took down the security of a national bank and transfer millions into someone else’s account. Of course, he’d immediately transferred the money back too.

“Yes. A loan. With all my tax statements and 401K in order and everything. I am straight now, aren’t I?”

Shiv hesitated. Dev squeezed his knee again. “Dude, you’ve got to talk to Kit. He’d want to weigh in on this. I am not saying I am not up for it. I am,” he assured Shiv. “This actually works out pretty fucking perfectly for me. I am not going to have to spend time hunting for a buyer and GWBG will be in safe hands with you.”

Dev actually owned the whole building he operated his business from. He had owned a couple of businesses, a resort up in Lake Tahoe that he’d sold for a tidy profit. He’d held on to this building though. It was choice real estate.

Dev shrugged. A marked change from the withdrawn, moody bastard he’d been for the last month, since he came back from Chicago and Shiv had realized Dev was going to leave soon. For good. He just hadn’t known it then.

“I don’t know. Not right now, though.” His smile was self-deprecating. “I guess I am not willing to give up my roots here either.”

“Makes sense.” Shiv’s knee bounced, a product of his inability to sit still, be calm for more than five minutes. “I want this, Dev. I’ll work hard. And I am not running anything by Kit.”

“Dude.” Dev pressed a hand to Shiv’s knee. It stopped bouncing. “You have to tell Kit. He bailed you out of prison. He’ll hate it if you don’t tell him.”

Shiv took a deep breath and rubbed the back of his neck. “I never said I won’t tell Kit. I’ll tell him when the time is right. But right now? This is between you and me. So, if you don’t want to do it. That’s fine. You can say so. No big deal.”

Except, of course, it was. And Dev knew it. But, out of left field, he said, “Did I thank you for your last job? For helping Kit out with that voicemail message between Lily and Drake when I was in Chicago?”

“You don’t have to thank me. I am glad I did some good before hanging up my hacking hat,” Shiv said.

“You did,” Dev murmured. “You very much did. It kickstarted Kit’s investigation and helped us… my family, so much. I can’t ever thank you enough. So I am going to ask you again, are you sure you want this bar?” he asked.

Shiv didn’t answer. He’d made his case. He’d presented his data. And Dev would either know he was good for it. Or not. Either way, he was done talking.

The outside door opened and a tall, stunningly attractive South Asian woman stepped in. She was dressed bizarrely in a man’s shirt and jeans and no shoes.

“It is cold here in October, you guys,” Zara complained as she walked on tippy toes, avoiding the detritus of the impromptu rave last night had become. She shivered, her fall of hair swinging forward to lie on her shoulders as she closed the door behind her.

“Hey.” His voice was several octaves lower. Intimate. “I thought you’d be sleeping.” He ran a hand down her back and hugged her at the waist. She leaned up and planted a side kiss on him, her palm lingering on his cheek. Murmured something that made him grin.

“Shiv,” Dev said lazily, a second later. “Why don’t you work up a decent proposal and we can discuss it properly? Like entrepreneurs?”

Zara laughed and twined her fingers with Dev’s. The small chip of zirconia she sported flashed in the dim light. “Later, Shiv. Please? Also, can you finish closing up on your own? Dev is going to be… occupied.”

Shiv gave them a thumbs up. Dev chuckled. He shot his friend a glance and saw that Shiv was already turning back to the work at hand. Shiv wanted the bar. He wanted to run the bar.

“Dev,” Zara said conversationally as they went up the elevator to his apartment. The one he was still not ready to give up. “You better not be thinking about whatever proposal Shiv wants to send you right now.”

He snagged her closer and plastered her against himself, kissing her thoroughly. “No,” he said. “I’m not. I’m thinking about what I’m going to do to you once we reach my bed.”

She smiled against his mouth. This woman who’d held his heart for the better part of both their lives. Dev decided then that if Shiv wanted a little bit of home, if he wanted roots, then Dev was not going to stand in the way of that.