Chapter 1
455 Tenth Avenue, New York, NY is a seven-story office building made almost entirely of glass, where the windows fog in the extreme cold and on heavily humid summer days and the ladies bathroom requires a code to access, but the men’s restroom is open 24/7 and has a condom dispenser next to the sinks.
On the fifth floor, facing the Hudson River, the windows overlooking the grey churning waters and the dappled buildings of Jersey City, sits the offices of Stark Casting, a small boutique casting agency that casts mostly indie film projects and Off-Broadway productions.
The office is run by its CEO and founder, Tony Stark, a man full of charming snark, who has earned a reputation of terrifying young actors with his signature eyebrow raise and blunt observations of their time in the audition room.
He only has a few office workers: his bookkeeper Monica Rambeau, a woman whose precision and attention to detail has managed to keep the business floating through some of the less glamorous moments of a casting agency’s career and his assistant, the incredibly anxious Vision Shade.
“Connecticut?”
Tony Stark looks up from an enormous stack of headshots, his eyebrows raised comically over a pair of thick, black rimmed glasses. “You finally read my email,” he says dryly, flipping a picture over and examining the back.
“Finally-,” Vision Shade takes a deep breath, expanding his lungs on a count of ten, waiting until all the air has escaped his body before he trusts himself to answer. “It’s Christmas.”
“I’m aware,” Tony turns the next picture over and frowns. “What’s your point?”
“My point,” Vision grinds out. “Is that it’s Christmas.”
“I’m sorry,” Tony says. “Did you have plans?”
“I might!”
Tony places the picture down and links his fingers together under his chin. “We’ll only be there through the twenty fourth, you’ll have plenty of time to hop down on the Metro North and get back to the city for whatever debauchery you decide to partake in.”
Vision grumbles. “I wish you’d had informed me earlier.”
Tony just blinks at him. “I did, you’re the one who doesn’t check his email.”
“I check my email!” Vision protests.
Tony just raises an eyebrow.
Vision lets out a loud sigh. “Where will we be staying?”
“An old friend of mine owns a Bed and Breakfast,” Tony shrugs. “If you’d read my email, you would know more.”
“I don’t-,” Vision swallows. “You’re lucky I like you.”
“You’re lucky I pay you enough to put up with my shit,” Tony returns cheekily.
Vision’s only answer is a wordless growl
“We’ll be catching the nine forty train,” Tony says as he stacks another headshot. “I have a dinner meeting with Pepper Potts,” he sneers around the name.
Vision snorts under his breath and Tony glares at him.
“Not a word,” he warns.
“I didn’t say anything,” Vison answers.
Tony humphs. “I’ll need you in the car outside of the Café Intermezzo at nine.”
Vision chews on the inside of his cheek. “Car at nine,” he repeats making a note. “Anything else?”
“Yeah,” Tony holds up a headshot of an actress with waves of red hair and bright green eyes. “What do we think of her?”
Vision shakes his head. “Too generic.”
Tony sighs and plops the headshot into a stack. “You’re probably right.”
***
The best thing about being Tony Stark’s assistant, Vision muses later in the evening, as he packs a bag in his tiny studio apartment in the Lower East Side. Is that you never want for excitement.
Tony is spontaneous and driven by some mad, internal desire for more.
More money, more success, more movement.
It’s exhausting to keep up with him, Vision’s usually trotting along behind him as he’s making elaborate plans to expand the business to find the next big thing in a city full of hopeful lights just waiting for the match to spark their careers.
Tony has made it his personal mission to be that match for hundreds of young actors and Vision is in the seat next to him, just hoping his seatbelt works.
Tony’s email, when Vision finally cools down long enough to read it thoroughly, details the large cattle call style audition happening in Connecticut over the course of four days. College students from around the New England area will be flocking to audition for companies all over the country, Tony included. He enjoys going to auditions with primarily young artists because, according to him, “young talent is far more interesting to watch”.
Though he did say that right after hanging up on Pepper Potts, so his words should probably be taken with a grain or two of salt.
Regardless, Tony has decided to swing up to Connecticut, though whether to prove a point or to actually find talent, Vision wasn’t sure.
Vision just hopes he doesn’t have to sit in the audition room for longer than a few minutes at a time. He can only hear “Oh What a Beautiful Morning” screeched out a couple of times before he wants to shove cotton into his ear canals.
As he’s finishing up his packing and double checking the itinerary, Vision’s phone rings. The time is only 8:30 PM, so he knows it can’t be Tony calling. He lets it ring out, ignoring it as he shuffles to the bathroom to dump all his toiletries into a plastic zip lock bag.
His phone rings again and he eyes it warily from where he’s folding a pair of jeans into a crisp rectangle.
The number flashing across his phone is unknown, but it boasts the New York City area code, so he picks it up and answers on the fourth ring. “Hello?”
“Oh, thank god.”
The voice on the other end of the phone is pleasantly female, the tone pitched low in her throat with a delicate and natural vocal fry. It would be enjoyable to listen to her if the inflection were not so panicked. “Please tell me this is Vision Shade, Tony Stark’s assistant.”
“Speaking,” Vision confirms, still wary.
“Jesus,” the woman continues. “Do you know how difficult you are to track down?”
“Uh,” Vision says. “Yes?”
“Listen,” the woman has barreled ahead, not caring about his response. “You’ve got to get down to Café Intermezzo right now.”
“I’m sorry,” Vision abandons his jeans and sits on the end of his bed. “Who are you?”
“Oh, sorry,” the woman sounds flustered now. “I’m Wanda Maximoff, Pepper Potts’ assistant.”
“Oh,” Vision now understands why the woman sounds panicked. “Oh no, what’s happened?”
“You need to get down here, I truly think your boss is about to strangle my boss with his bare hands.”
Vision sighs. “Are you sure? They get in spats all the time-.”
“He’s been waving a fork in her face for the last ten minutes!”
“I’ll be down there in like thirty minutes, but I’d really rather not-.”
“Listen, Vision Shade,” Wanda’s voice sounds dangerous now. “I can’t say I love my job, but I would really appreciate it if your boss doesn’t murder my means of paying rent. Please just do something.”
“Okay, okay,” Vision says. “I can call him; do you think that’ll distract him long enough?”
“It might,” Wanda answers. “I just- Jesus Christ, he’s picking up the shrimp cocktail, stop him before I spend the rest of my life in a dry-cleaners!”
“The shrimp cocktail-,” Vision’s head is beginning to spin.
“She’s wearing a white suit,” Wanda sounds like she’s gritting her teeth.
Vision grumbles under his breath. “Fine.”
Wanda hangs up.
Packing abandoned, Vision pulls up Tony’s contact information and clicks call. The phone rings for half a second before Tony answers.
“Tony Stark.”
“Put the shrimp down,” Vision says.
“How do you- do you have spies on me?” Since the last part of his sentence seems to be directed at Pepper, Vision keeps his mouth shut.
“Of course, I don’t have spies on you!” Vision hears Pepper’s scandalized voice answer. “That would require me having to devote more than three seconds of my life to you!”
“Tony,” Vision tries to grab his attention.
“Excuse me,” Tony answers Pepper. “It’s not like you’re anything exciting either!”
“Tony!”
“What?” Tony’s voice is back in Vision’s ear.
“I will be there in,” Vision checks the time. “Fifteen minutes. Can you please try not to kill her? Cleaning up a murder scene is not in my job description.”
“Neither is being a cheeky shit, but you seem to have that down,” Tony mutters.
“I’m not spending my Christmas bonus on your bail,” Vision tells him. “Just take a deep breath, order a double scotch, and I’ll be there before you know it.”
“Get here fast,” Tony growls before hanging up with a bump.
Vision sighs and types out a response to the mysterious Wanda Maximoff.
That should do it, let me know if it escalates again.
His phone pings half a second later with her response.
thanks.
***
Wanda Maximoff never thought she’d be a personal assistant.
When she moved to New York City from her home in Sokovia, she expected to be an actress. She expected to struggle for a few months before signing onto an agency and then begin booking jobs. A survival job was never high on her list of necessities.
She realized her naivete only a few months after moving to the city, when her money was running out faster than she could have ever imagined and not a single audition inspired a callback, much less a job.
That was when she stumbled upon a job listing, small and concise that read:
Looking for a personal assistant. Must be organized, punctual, and pleasant. Serious inquiries only.
Thus began her career as a personal assistant.
And, she can admit, it has its advantages.
As a personal assistant to an actress like Pepper Potts, a woman whose career spans from childhood roles on sitcoms to dramatic stage performances, Wanda’s gotten to travel and meet people she could have only dreamed of six months before. Pepper Potts is a, perhaps not A list, but definitely B list acting legend and through her, Wanda has learned more about the business than she thinks she ever would on her own.
Pepper is electric and driven and Wanda follows behind her worshipfully in her wake, picking up tidbits of advice when she can, and hoping that one day, she’ll be half as successful as Pepper has managed.
However, there is one drawback as Pepper’s assistant.
Well two.
The first is Pepper’s boundless energy, always chasing the next gig, always following the next audition. There are days when Wanda wakes up in her small one-bedroom apartment on the Lower East Side and finds herself falling asleep in Los Angeles or London.
But Wanda is young, or so she keeps reminding herself when she wakes up exhausted and burnt out on a rare day off, barely able to slide out of bed to make a pot of coffee before burrowing back under her blankets.
She can manage it.
The real drawback of being Pepper’s assistant is that Wanda has the terrible job of watching her boss argue for at least three hours a week, either on the phone or in person, with Tony Stark, casting agent extraordinaire.
Wanda doesn’t particularly like that she’s so negatively associated in Tony’s brain as there have been many instances where he’s casting the project she’s auditioning for.
She tells herself she can deal with it though. Anything to be able to afford to live by herself in Manhattan.
What she can’t deal with, is Tony Stark actively threatening Pepper Potts with a shrimp cocktail.
She’s been standing in the cold outside the restaurant, stamping her feet against the December chill, waiting for Pepper to finish up her dinner meeting, which she said would be done at 8:30 and not a minute more. The Uber Wanda had ordered for them has long left, and Wanda, in ratty jeans and dirt speckled sneakers, isn’t nearly classy enough to step into a restaurant with a dress code.
So, she loiters by the window and keeps one eye on the couple at the table in the corner, Pepper’s golden hair is buttery smooth in the dim light of the restaurant, the planes of Tony’s face lit by the candle set between them on the small, white linen table cloth.
They’d make a handsome couple if they weren’t scowling at one another, Pepper’s jaw ticking and Tony’s hands gesticulating wildly as he answers the phone, presumably speaking to his assistant, Vision Shade.
Wanda’s never met the man, but he sounded study and calm on the phone. She can only hope his influence keeps the cocktail sauce off Pepper’s white pantsuit.
Tony hangs up the phone and gestures to the waiter to bring him a drink and Wanda feels her shoulders relax as he lowers the shrimp cocktail back to the table.
Thank you, Vision Shade.
It’s a few more minutes of counting breaths and watching clouds puff from her nose and mouth when a car pulls up to the curb and a blond man in a dark pea coat unfolds himself from the backseat. He leans back in and says: “I’ll be just a minute,” to the driver in a rich, dancing British accent, the syllables melting together like chocolate on a hot day in July.
He straightens and Wanda leaps forward, her mittened hands grabbing his forearm. The man rears back, his mouth falling open in surprise, a noise that sounds vaguely like: “glug!” escaping his lungs.
He’s tall, Wanda registers. Tall and built with the most delicious spicy scent wafting off his coat, a dark green scarf knotted at his throat.
“I’ll pretend like you didn’t just make that noise,” she offers when she realizes he’s just going to stand there like he’s waiting for her to snatch his wallet.
The man blinks. “Wanda?”
She rolls her eyes. “No, it’s Santa.”
His cheeks turn pink, the color sweeping across his face almost delicately. “There’s no need to attack me in the street.”
“My nerves are already at a breaking point,” Wanda answers pertly. “Please get him out of there.”
“Why haven’t you gone in to do anything about it?”
She gestures to her feet. “According to the maître d’, my shoes are not up to the dress code,” she rolls her eyes. “If you ask me, one of his patrons murdering their dinner guest would probably cause more of a riot than a woman in sneakers, but what do I know?”
Vision seems unable to keep up with the words spilling out of Wanda’s mouth, he just runs a hand tiredly over his face. “Right,” he answers. “I’ll be just a second then, do you want me to tell Pepper you’re waiting out here?”
“Don’t bother,” Wanda waves her hand. “I’ll text her when you’re both safely away.”
“Right,” Vision repeats. “Back in a bit.”
He ducks into the restaurant and for a moment, it looks like he might be arguing with the maître d’, but he shoulders his way to the small table in the corner and claps Tony Stark on the shoulder.
Tony leaps to his feet, says something to Pepper that causes her to grip her knife in her hand and Vision leads Tony outside, the latter swaying a little on his feet.
“My hero,” Tony is babbling as Vision pushes open the restaurant door, Tony’s coat in his fist. “You are my hero, Vision Shade.”
Wanda leaps forward when Tony sways just a tad too far to the right and manages to get her shoulder wedged under his before he can tip over.
“Woah!” Tony exclaims gleefully.
Wanda meets Vision’s eyes over Tony’s shoulder and he gives her a long-suffering look that has her stifling a giggle.
“Okay, Tony,” Vision pulls him to the car, still idling on the curb. “Lower your head, that’s right.”
Between Wanda and Vision, they manage to get Tony into the car and Vision straightens, shoving his bare hands into his pockets. “Thank you,” he says to Wanda.
“Is he okay?” she crinkles her brow at Tony who has launched into a verse of Holding Out for a Hero, much to the Uber driver’s annoyance.
“Fine,” Vision sighs. “The double scotch he ordered while waiting for me apparently took him over the edge.” Wanda snickers and Vision shoots her a narrowed look. “You laugh, but wait until Pepper finishes the last of the bottle of red wine they ordered with dinner.”
Wanda’s eyes open comically wide and its Vision who snickers at her.
“Hey, buddy!” the driver is looking at Vision with annoyance. “Are you going to get in the car or what? It’s fucking cold out there.”
“Fucking cold!” Tony agrees.
Vision sighs and shares a glance with Wanda. The lights of the restaurant behind her catches on his eyes and for a moment, she feels like she can’t breathe.
His eyes are so blue.
He blinks and the moment is over. He shoots her a wry half smile and places his fingers where an invisible cap would sit. “Nice to meet you, Wanda Maximoff.”
“You too, Vision Shade,” Wanda giggles in spite of herself, feeling warm for the first time in about three hours.
The driver honks the horn and Vision flinches. “See you around,” he ducks into the car without another word and it peels away from the curb in a flurry of tires.
“See you around,” Wanda answers to the empty sidewalk, sure she will probably never see Vision Shade again in her life.