Murray Hill || A Superhuman Tale - 1

Chapter Thirteen

A law office was not where Tommy had intended to spend his day, but at just past 9:00 that morning a call had come in from the offices of "Dewey, Cheatum, and Howe," as he was fond of calling his New York attorneys. He needed to come into the office, immediately. There were papers that needed to be signed.

DC&H, located in Gramercy Park just off 16th, was one of a series of midsized law firms that, through a series of trusts and corporations, managed most of his assets. The scheme put Tommy in a position where he could appear to be an employee of Skeleton Bones Ice Creamery while, in fact, being the owner of that company and various other assets. Most of those additional assets were in the form of five buildings spread throughout Manhattan, six including the small apartment building in which he and Rhonda lived.

On paper, it was quite a spot of money. In reality, though, the investments generated revenue sufficient to cover the maintenance and expenses of the properties, with a few bucks left over every year. It was an amount that, had he so chosen, he and Rhonda could've lived modestly on the income alone, especially given that they resided in their apartment rent-free.

His occupation selling ice cream was a nice dollop of spare cash, but mostly it was its own reward.

Beyond that, he did have stashes of gold, precious gems, and other valuables squirreled away here and there, like a crazy old man, for emergencies. Some of those tiny nest eggs were secreted as far afield as Istanbul, Johannesburg, and Calcutta. He hadn't inventoried those reserves in years and would just as soon not touch them, absent some real emergency.

Time had taught him caution, if not always prudence.

It'd become apparent from his visit to the law offices—it was his first in nearly 10 years—that, had Tommy paid more attention to his correspondence, the trip would have been unnecessary. Okay, read your mail, dumb ass, was his self-admonishment as he left the DC&H offices at just past noon. It was an enormous pain in the neck, but business acumen was not his strong suit.

In any event, the lawyers helped in some small way to keep government scrutiny to a minimum. There was much about modern society worthy of praise, and he marveled at the scope and breadth of human advances. But the degree to which government invasiveness, including the dreaded photo ID, had exploded in the preceding century boggled his mind.

It had become increasingly difficult just to be let alone. Hence, the lawyers, the trusts, and the corporations.

Those thoughts soon abandoned him.

It was early June, and the weather had taken a pleasant turn after the previous day's rain. The early afternoon showed the city at its most photogenic. The Flatiron Building was one of his favorites, so instead of taking the bus or a cab home, Tommy decided to walk part of the way, with a stroll past the Garden.

The long walk was soothing, and he could almost taste the city.

He hadn't fully recovered from the shock of his emotional display at breakfast three weeks earlier. It had been ages since he'd been so thoroughly overcome by such tender sentiments. Rhonda's response had warmed his heart, and as he turned to make his way uptown, he found himself deep in thought. The long talks he'd had with her, and his conversation the day before with Camille Thomas, had left him feeling sentimental, which wasn't his ordinary way. The past was a fata morgana upon which Tommy seldom dwelt. He loved to look and to lean forward, but today he walked while pondering people, places, and events from years long gone.

***

His girl had been curious about everything, especially the apparent uniqueness of his condition. Time and again their conversation returned to his great age. As near as he could discern, he was the only creature on Earth so afflicted. He'd met Gifted with great strength, incredible durability, and other abilities that simply beggared belief. He'd pirated many of those Gifts, out of caution and a desire to survive. The many centuries of his early life, where nothing stood between him and death but his wits and the strength of his all-too-human body, were still a vivid memory.