What Happened To Tommy?

“So what happened to Tommy?” you prompted once you and Mosche were in your former bedroom.

“Well, he died, like I said,” Mosche said.

“Right, but…?”

“Oh. He got high and then got assassinated,” Mosche said with a shrug. “It was, like, a whole thing I guess?”

You paused a long beat until you shook your head. “I’m sorry, what?”

“Well, Tommy liked to get high and go for long walks through the city,” Mosche said. “Which, I mean, I thought it was weird 'cause when I get high I like to feel all mellow and stuff, but he’d smoke up and then want to stretch his legs. So he’d go for all these walks.”

“Mosche,” you said carefully. “Was Tommy someone important?” You couldn’t conceive of that being true, considering all his stuff had been abandoned and he’d been living in a relatively cheap apartment with Mosche as a roommate, but… weird shit could happen.

“Huh? No, man. I mean, he was important to like, his family and stuff I guess,” Mosche shrugged.

“So he got high, went for a walk and…?”

“Got assassinated,” Mosche finished for me.

“You mean murdered?”

“No, like, assassinated by an assassin,” he shook his head.

You worked your jaw for a moment. “Was there a reason that the cops told you or anything?”

“Oh, I guess he looked like this other guy. Like a doppelganger situation. And the other guy was in like the mafia or something and had these enemies that were looking for him. And I guess while Tommy was out on his walks someone had spotted him and thought he was the guy, and that he had a routine, so there was an assassin waiting for him when he went out on his walk.”

“Jesus Christ,” you said, looking around the room at all the guy’s stuff.

“I mean, stuff happens, right?” Mosche shrugged again. “It sucked, and was sad. And Tommy sort of left me hanging for the rent, and his parents didn’t come asking for any of his stuff so it’s just kind of here.”

You scrubbed at your face with your hands, shaking your head. “Dude, that’s wild,” you finally said, dropping your hands and looking around again.

“I guess,” Mosche said. “You sure you don’t want any of this stuff?”

“Yeah, I’m sure,” you sighed. “Maybe see if you can sell any of it on Craigslist, make back some of the rent while you look for a new roommate?”

“Maybe,” Mosche said, considering the idea. You had a feeling he wouldn’t do it - that would take more effort.

You ended up needing to walk him through the room, making sure he acknowledged there wasn’t any damage, and then emailing you that from his phone. There was a near-0% chance that Mosche would try and come back at you later for damages or something, or try to screw you over in any way, but you were still pre-law and you had read plenty of horror stories on the internet. You also didn’t know much about his parents, and if he got in a tight enough bind it was possible they could try and manipulate him or something.

Email secured, you led him out of the room and back into the living area. Iris was gone, probably to their room, and you slung on your backpack and picked up your duffel.

“Well, Mosche,” you said. “It’s been weird, and it’s been real. Thanks for being my roommate this summer.”

“Thanks for everything, John,” Mosche said and pulled you into a hug. You hugged him back with your free hand. “When you’re in the city, let me know! Unless you want to change your mind and stay?”

“Can’t man,” you sighed, shaking your head. “Gotta get back to school with Sabrina.”

“Right, right,” he nodded, backing off. “OK, well, uh…”

“Bye Iris,” you called towards his side of the apartment.

“Bye,” she called back, not coming out.

You turned back to Mosche. “Do me a favour, dude? Talk to her more than you talked to Tasha. And use all your words, and explain all your feelings. You hurt Tash pretty bad and Iris is younger than her. Don’t do that to her, too.”

Mosche made a slightly pouty frown but nodded. “Yeah, I guess,” he said.

“No, not ‘I guess,’” you challenged him. “Just fucking do it. Don’t be a little bitch, own your feelings and thoughts. That’ll help you with your comedy too - you can’t be truly funny unless you can get to the truth of things.”

He sighed heavily. “Yeah,” he said again. “I guess.”

That was probably the best you were going to get from him.

“Alright, my man,” you said, hefting your duffel again. “Get the door for me? I'm out of here.”

Mosche got the door, and you managed to not look back and see the sad puppy look he probably had on his face as you walked down the hall towards the elevator. As soon as you were downstairs in the lobby you dropped your bag and took out your phone.

‘You guys are not gonna believe the Tommy story,’ you texted both your girlfriends.

‘Tell me!’ Sabrina texted back quickly. It was super late, or early, for Gemma so you didn’t get anything back from her.

‘Let me get on the bus. I also need to Google some news stories for evidence,’ you texted and chuckled to yourself. Let her chew on that for a minute.

She sent you back some shocked-face emojis in response, making you grin. Maybe you could play this out a bit just to tease her.

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