Bishan Chanda

OPEN STARTER anywhere.

     “LOOK AT MY FACE.” and like a statue sculpted exactly where he is sitting, roshan only blinks at the other as he holds his expression. “does it look like i’m impressed?”

Bishan scoffed. Clearly annoyed that the fact that he had just taken over another business in town didn’t at least get some reaction from his rival. “Fine, glad to know you care little for this town’s establishments.” 

fingers wrapped around the green paper, holding up the wad with a smile before stashing it into her apron’s pocket. “ i told you, you didn’t NEED to pay me, but.. it would be nice for the practice to have a fund for probono work ,” she mused softly, the ever gleaming smile that seemingly never left her lips. before her hazel hued gaze found their way to his feature once more. only widening at the mention of the new strain. there hadn’t been an indica or indica dominant strain beneath the sun that lexus hadn’t smoked, dabbed, or vaped. still, the promises of very lingering effects, peaked her interest, brows perking up inquisitively. “so probably a phenotype of trainwreck, ” lexus remembered fondly, lips pursing and quirking to the side before taking in a deep breath, scoffing playfully at his comment.

“ please, asking me if i want to try weed, is like asking a lion if he wants a big juicy antelope for breakfast – the answer will always be yes, bishan. ”

-

“Clean transaction,” Bishan said in response, as if him paying for it was in a sense something chivalrous to do. While he just liked the idea of people looking up to him for doing the ‘right’ thing. “Call it an investment,” he said. He liked to think some people looked up to him as much as he wanted them too, to see in him some bond-like villain, or someone like James Bond, who hid intelligence behind charm. Both of which would disappear the moment someone smarter walked in - of course. Bishan grinned and nodded, despite having no idea what ‘phenotype’ meant. “Knew it would be,” he said in response. He reached down into his pocket and produced a neatly folded piece of paper. “A sample,” he said, holding it between them.

Freddie had known a person or two in his time that liked to use phrase ‘building an empire’. He’d never seen the appeal himself. Empires were an awful lot of work. People nagging all day about this or that. Then, among the naysayers, there was always a handful who wanted nothing more than to see the downfall of a beloved figurehead. The type that relished in the opportunity to kick a person when they were down, and steal everything that person had created.

For some, this was a highlight of life. For himself, he found it all exceedingly tedious and boring. Perhaps that was exactly why so many little properties and businesses found their way into Freddie’s possession - like the old house he’d inherited on the edge of the forest - it was the universe playing a little joke on him. Giving him exactly what he didn’t want.

“How big would you like your empire to be?” he asked, a friendly smile spreading across his face. A few businesses, sure, perhaps the whole town eventually? It was such a small town, though. “It’s not a bad idea. I’d start with the grocer, if it was me. People need food, and to be honest, the general store here is rather…”

Lacking wouldn’t be very polite to say.

“Small. It’s a small shop.”

Bishan laughed at the mention of the grocer, if anyone was concerned with his spreading business, they didn’t mention it. Perhaps because they were too hung up on George Alby and his empire to make much of a fuss about a Desi boy with a Mexican Spanish accent buying up two businesses in town. The smokescreen was so huge that he was barely talked about. “The general store, not such a bad idea, though, with that being family business and all, perhaps a better and more interesting opportunity would be to start one to rival the one that already exists.” He brushed his hair back with his hand. “And how big… hmmm, just enough to be memorable.”

“Property value?” The words came out in a hoarse but bubbly laugh, followed by snark. “Yeah. I’m sure the property values are through the roof in a haunted town. Where ranches randomly explode.” He motioned to the obvious land they stood on. “People go missing in the woods. Did whoever told you that also try to sell you a bridge, Bishan? Because…” Gram trailed off. It was almost disappointing to hear from Bishan, how gullible he could be. “I own plenty of things. No help from Dad either.” 

They could go round and round all damn day. Gram dropped the info about their father casually. Minute reactions flicked across Bishan’s face. If he didn’t know the other, Gram probably would not have even noticed. “Yeah.” He touched his chest. “Something with his heart.” Which was a bit of dark humor– Gram was once convinced the old man didn’t have one. “You know the stepmom. Never the most talkative or helpful person, was she?” He heaved an exhale. “But. Let’s stay out of each other’s ways. If we’re both here. We can at least agree to that. Can’t we?”

-

Rage coursed through him, he was earning good money, he was doing good business, he had property all over Ohio, and yet, in the eyes of Gram, he would always be a waste of space. The one thing he and his dad had in common, they could both make Bishan feel small. “You know nothing about it,” he said in response, knowing nothing better to say. He could list everything he owned, he could list everything he was still planning on buying, to a point where George Alby and him were in charge of the whole town. But he didn’t need anyone to know, Gram wouldn’t be convinced of it either way. Like he was still hung up on the fact that his father had given him money, even if he hadn’t. “You’re just jealous,” he said matter-of-factly. “Deep down you wish he would give you money, not me.” 

No, he couldn’t, they couldn’t. Not with the bomb Gram just dropped all casually. Because Bishan didn’t have contact with their step-mom, and now his stupid half-brother had become the main source of information to him. Even if he hated the man, Bishan didn’t want to become an orphan. He wanted his father to one day get to see the empire he made and explain to him that he did it all without needing a single thing from him. “Sure,” he opted, knowing it was a lie.

Bishan pulled the cash out of his wallet and handed it to Lexus with a grin. “Pleasure doing business with you, as always. My friends will be here to pick it up tomorrow,” he said. Smoothing over the transaction. He never liked to drive around with a lot of it in his own car, so when he needed the weed to be hauled from places - like Lexus’ farmland - he would send others, they would use backroads, different cars, and so forth. Much easier that way. They would purchase some other items from a town over, make it a day trip. He simply didn’t have time for all that. 

“I got a pretty nice strain coming in from Mexico, if you want to try,” he offered, as he put his wallet back into his back pocket. “They say it hits hard, but with very little lingering effects the next morning.”

“Uh-huh.” Bishan rattled on as usual. Always the center of his own universe. Always keen on hearing his own voice. Even if Gram was inclined to take advice, he sure as hell wouldn’t be taking it from his half-brother. “Good decision? Says the guy who made the solid investment of buying a laundromat in a haunted town? Bringing in that money one quarter at a time, hm?” 

It was hard not to take a jab at Bishan. But he also didn’t have all day to hang around doing so. “Anyway. I think we both know how this game goes. You stay out of my way, I’ll stay out of yours.” It didn’t take much to climb over the short fence of the ranch. Might as well take a closer look. Before he parted with Bishan, he mentioned from the other side of the fence: “Oh, you probably got the first call about it. The stepmother phoned me. Dear old dad hasn’t been feeling so well lately.” Apparently the prick was in the hospital but due to return home soon. Gram hadn’t asked too many details. Certainly his brother knew all about it.

Bishan scoffed, shaking his head. “It’s about the property value, not the business itself. But not that would know anything about that. When is the last time you owned anything?” He was rather proud of what he managed to achieve, especially since the initial investment George Alby had done wasn’t very substantial. He had worked hard to turn a little money into a lot, but of course, he could’ve counted on Gram to make it seem worthless. 

He shook his head. “Oh, so you’re leaving then?” He asked, raising an eyebrow. But the news made him pause for a moment. He swallowed. He didn’t have contact with his stepmother, nor with his dad, if they wanted to contact him, it was a lot harder. However, that wasn’t what he was worried about. He wondered why George hadn’t told him during their last meeting. “Not feeling so well?” He asked. In a sense he could show that he didn’t get any mom from their dad, as well as hopefully get more details out of Gram. Though he figured he wouldn't get any.

“Of course,” he said, cheerily. It was not quite a lie. At least, not by intention. Freddie agreed that professionals should absolutely be called in for things one could not do oneself. However, the standard by which he measured his own ability to tinker without a professional was much higher than any certified worker would have signed off on.

“An extra hand is always welcome,” he added, and then, “The bar came out nice.” He glanced over Bishan’s head, up toward the aged building. Of course, he could not see it from here, outside the building, but obviously his memory of three minutes ago still served him well enough. He pulled out a lighter.

“Are you working on anything else currently?”

“You know where to find me,” Bishan offered with a wink, though not too suggestive, he could use the job if offered, he might be able to convince one of his mates to pretend they sold houses instead. That would be a nice change of pace for them too, to play the one in charge for a moment. “Thank you,” he said, certain that Freddie could barely remember what the inside looked like. If it wasn’t his own bar, he was certain neither could he. And if he did, well, a bonus, since most bars looked exactly the same around these parts. 

“Aside from being the main bar and selling the best-“ he held up another joint - “I’ve been trying to see what other businesses in town would be a nice addition to my empire,” he joked.

He scoffed. Bishan could deny and dance around the topic all he wanted. He’d gotten in on their father’s business. And then took advantage of the unsuspecting in a small town, where no one truly new him. The easy route. Right out of dear old dad’s playbook. 

But Gram wasn’t there to pick it apart. Not then, at least. With Bishan around, it wouldn’t hurt to have collateral. Protect his own interests. The brothers had the habit of attempting to throw each other under the bus. Living in the same spot once again, the old desire might come out in either of them. 

Yeah, the town was weird. Bishan tried to normalize what happened. Must be a reason for it. He played along. “Oh? Happens a lot? Are you concerned?” A pause. “About your businesses being targeted?”

Bishan smiled in his brother’s direction. He had a lot of assumptions about him, not all of them might be true, but he didn’t care. He had decided that Gram would be the last to believe in ghosts, and while he didn’t either, he did believe that there was more between life and death, if only because his mom had believed. 

“Of course, but I have great ‘paranormal occurrences' coverage,” he joked. “Of course, I also offer something to them daily to ensure the spirits leave me alone. I would really suggest keeping them befriended, they can totally rip you off. There have been near death experiences, and lots of ghost-related mental diseases. Wouldn’t want that good head of yours to get all scrambled, although, at least then you would be able to make some good decisions.”

Oh. That. So much for the hope that Q’s place wasn’t randomly impacted by whatever this shit was and no where else in Pleasance was. Of course Bishan’s place was one of the ones - and a laundromat on top of it all? Shit. 

“Ah - yeah, guess that’s been going around.” He didn’t really know what else he could say about it. It would clear itself up soon enough? Hell if he knew the validity of that statement. “Sorry to hear your place is affected, Bishan - we’re working with the water company to sort it all out.”

Bishan let out an aspirated sigh. “Dutch’s been affected too,” he stated, his voice laced with annoyance and anger. “Fucking genius timing, on a friday morning.” He needed to get the place in order before that, if he couldn’t use the washing machine, he needed to either buy a shit ton of new glasses - which wasn’t a bad investment - or drive a town over for water bottles. Though washing with bottled water seemed a far bigger waste. Though he definitely needed the bottled water for coffee and tea. 

The laundromat was lost to him, however, there was no easy solution for that. He let out a growl of annoyance. “I need a drink.”

“Add it to my tab?” he said, reaching out.

“Experience… fixing up old houses? No, this is a first. I don’t have any other properties in quite such a state of disrepair.” He paused. “That I know of.” He scratched underneath his chin, and thought for a moment. For when was the last time he’d even taken stock of his homes? He trusted their care to others while he traipsed about country, chasing a new story for the podcast or following up on an invitation to some exclusive gathering.

“But building things has always been my forte, and Gram is a great help.”

Bishan licked the inside of his teeth and nodded. He could make up a good way to add it to the bill without raising suspicion, he had enough experience with money laundering to understand the delicate workings of the customer service industry. A fine tip it would be. 

He chuckled in response, as he dropped the joint in the extended hand. “Well, if you need a hand, I’ve fixed up Dutch’s mostly by myself, with a little help from friends. And that’s knowledge that should not go wasted.” It was a good lie, Dutch’s included the bar itself and some apartments above it that had doubled in value since he had gotten his hands on it. Of course he didn’t live there himself, he made sure the people he housed above a bar were perfectly suitable to spending money in the establishment below to earn some additional income. 

The name made him look up. Though he of course couldn’t say for sure that it needed a reaction. Gram was a common name after all. The chances of his brother finding himself in Pleasance seemed impossibly small. “Be sure to get some professional help though, some things shouldn’t be underestimated, like wiring and plumbing.” 

His head tilted to his half-brother’s favorite curse. “I know it’s difficult for you, but don’t be a twat.” For fuck’s sake, Bishan, get a new insult. 

‘You think that’s what I used to set me up?’ “Uh, yeah.” How else could Bishan have bought that bar, even in a small town. And Gram wasn’t stupid– his brother made a deal with the devil (their father) years ago. Of course it’s where all the money came from. “Still living off the old man. Nice to see some things never change.”

Sight-seeing. “Bullshit.” A result of a prank. Would Bishan cause a fire to lower the value of a property he had in mind? Of course. But surely he wasn’t interested in a death ranch. Unless there was more to it that Gram was unaware of. 

He shook his head and rested a hand on a fence post. His remarks had been effortless with little emotion, and continued in the same tone. “I’ve come to see the aftermath. Prank or not.” An explosion would be one hell of a prank. “Not every day a place spontaneously combusts nearby, huh?”

The sliver of a smile appeared. “What are you really doing out here, Bishan?”

Bishan cocked an eyebrow at the reaction, before his mind reevaluated what word always got on the other’s nerves, perhaps because it was so… regular. He could say puta all he wanted, and it seemed to get a reaction out of Gram. A smile settled on his face. “Hmm, if that’s what you want to believe, I won’t stop you,” he offered. He wouldn’t be surprised if Gram barely recognised their father’s business partner all those years later. Though he might as well never have seen George Alby to begin with. Bishan didn’t feel like saying that he had bought all of it with the money he had made over the years either, the less Gram knew about the full extent of his business the better. “Clearly you haven’t been here for very long yet,” Bishan noted, as if Pleasance housed a great number of Pyromaniacs.

“History in general,” he all but mumbled in response. He really should have had a sit down with his co-host to get their stories aligned before he started talking about it with the whole time. History they had agreed on. The details… they hadn’t really gone over. There had simply been too much to do, moving and such.

“Yes, I’m fixing the place up myself.”

This was said rather matter-of-fact. It did not occur to him that others might not make a habit of tearing everything they owned apart just to build it back together (and better!), but he quickly realized he had slipped up in one regard.

“With my boyfriend’s help,” he added quickly, “Right now I’m working on some built-in book shelves, and then I’m going to… well, the roof is my main priority, but the new shingles haven’t arrived yet. So we’ll see what comes next when I get there.”

Bishan nodded, noting the mumbling and deciding that for now he wouldn’t ask further. For now, there was still room later to do so. He walked to the back of Dutch’s, didn’t care to look around the place - he had made sure it didn’t look like most back of clubs and bars he’d ever been to, but had cleaned it up and added screens to create a more private place, for several reasons - before producing a small assortment of freshly rolled joints from his pocket. 

“Ah, do you or your boyfriend have any experience on the matter?” He asked, pretending to just offer genuine interest.

He watched intently as Bishan coughed, sneezed, and touched everything. Bishan had resorted to germ warfare? Huh, okay. His brother might pick up more germs than he laid down, but whatever. Gram’s gaze followed Bishan until the other walked out the door. He then left a note for Raffy explaining why the store was in disarray (but couldn’t be bothered to clean the mess).

Fucking idiot.

– Friday

He slowed his walk towards the entrance of the ‘Death Ranch’. Gram called out to Bishan. Sarcasm heavily coated the tone of his words. “Feeling better? Sounded like you were sick yesterday. Hope it’s nothing fatal.” 

Gram paused feet away. Bishan loved a fight and unfortunately Gram could be impulsive in providing one. “You looking to buy this place with our father’s cash? A cursed ranch to go along with a laundromat. What diverse business interests you have.” 

The explosion had gotten his attention. Easily, he wasn’t one to ignore the possibility of chaos, after all. So he had taken the first car ride out, waited for the police to disperse and then snuck onto the property. It was the one piece of land in the surrounding area that George had warned him against, don’t buy it, stood his advice. Thus Bishan had kept his money from purchasing the good plot of land, accepting the superstition because he didn’t want to upset the one person that had lined his pockets at the very start of his career. 

Still, explosion. 

Gram’s voice send a shiver up his spin and he turned to face his half-brother. “Eh, fine,” he responded, scowl on his face. “Our father’s cash? Puta, you think that’s what I used to set me up.” He shook his head. “Nah, I’m here for sight seeing only. You? Come to check out the result of a prank?” He didn’t want to joke about Gram maybe having done it, that would be giving his brother too much credit. 

“Woah, woah, woah.” Tariq’s hands lifted in a defensive sort of manner as Bishan turned in his direction and lashed out angrily. Of course; one mystery solved and another just on it’s heels - shocking. At least it kept things interesting… 

“Just passing by - what’s going on?” It may be his day off, but when was he really off duty anymore? Was this town really big enough for all these random issues, though? He might have to pick Q’s brain about hiring a few more officers…

Bishan scoffed, anger raging through him for no other reason than that he might end up losing a day of business. Only a day he hoped, if it was more than a day... well. He licked the inside of his teeth, his mouth slightly agape as he shook his head. “What? You haven’t heard yet, fucking black water is coming out everywhere, I can’t run a business like this!” 

Bishan flipped the closed sign back on, stepped outside, and slammed the establishment closed with a grunt. He was so done with all of this. So very done. “Fucking water,” he growled. He was so close to getting one of the joints from his pocket and lighting one. But his business was out of business for the day - and however fucking longer - and he was having so serious issues with using bottled water for the dishes at Dutch’s. 

“What?!” he said to the first person passing him. “Need anything, place’s closed. You’d have more chance washing shit in the lake, or drinking from the lake even.” 

“I’m interested.” He gulp down a mouthful of his drink, leaving it still over half full as he set the glass aside. “The town certainly seems to have history. I am invested in that. I have a fairly successful podcast that is about… history.” 

Of a sort. Strange histories, he suppose was one way to describe it. Anything with a supernatural flare, but he and his co-host had agreed to keep that focus on the downlow for the time being. No need to jump right in with it. They needed to get a feel for the town before everyone knew they were here to find some ghosts or something equally unusual.

“But the house has a lot of potential too. Definitely a fixer-upper.”

Interested, smart choices of words, till he realised it was about the particular thing. Bishan continued to smile, nodding along, and cocking his head to the side a little when he mentioned the podcast. “A podcast? Any specific type of history? Or just history in general?” he asked. He figured most likely, nobody came to Pleasance for ‘history’ unless if it was of a paranormal kind. 

He stood and gestured for the other to follow him outside. “Do you plan on doing the fixing yourself?” he asked, eyes shining, but he was looking ahead, not back at Freddie. He didn’t want to be too obvious there. He had enough experience now with how to fix a house and sell it overpriced, he could make a whole lot of money on that front. Pleasance proved a good place to constantly re-sell the house. When people left because they decided there were ghosts, he just made sure to send someone else to drive up the price.

Of course he would like it. Jamie thinks, if he hadn’t been born here, hadn’t spent the majority of forty years here, he probably would like Pleasance, too, in that way that tourists and passers-by do with genuine wide-eyed fascination and fervid frustration that they spent so much on train tickets just to go home with not a lick of evidence proving this remote Ohio town had any real paranormal activity. Jamie can’t blame them. He’s lived here all his life and he’s still looking for the ghosts, too.

“Oh? Which one?” He hadn’t been aware of any shifts in management in the area lately. That sort of stuff typically finds its way through the grapevine quite easily, but maybe he just hasn’t been paying enough attention. His mother would know, and probably recognize the bartender by name and face - she has her own internal rolodex built into her system, a talent in its own right. “Can’t say we’re known for pursuing business opportunities, but if you’re George Alby, well, you certainly can try.”