Ironman 1. Chapter 1

You see her? That girl with the blonde ponytail, stumbling through the office trying desperately to do… well- whatever it is she needs to get done. Her name is Virginia Pepper Potts. She's nineteen years old, majoring in business, and Yes! She's very, very, very far away from home. How do I know that? Well… because she's me. I'm her. You get the point. This is my story. I bet you're wondering how I landed the job at the legendary Stark Industries. Well as you can see it was NOT easy, but to understand what I mean, we should start where it all began.

2 weeks ago

Stanford University

"Virginia, I just don't understand. Why couldn't you have just gone to Ohio University? It's a business school too."

I tried to hold the phone as close to my ear as possible but the cord kept getting in my way. "It's a REALLY good school mom. Not many applicants actually get in. You should be proud of me." I explain while trying to untangle myself.

"I _am_ proud of you, but you're so far away."

"I promise I'll come back for holidays, but I really have to go and pick up my class schedule."

"Okay," she replies hesitantly, "but if you need anything, anything at all, don't hesitate to ask."

"A cordless phone would be nice." I say after I finally free myself, "Love you."

Hanging up I slam the phone on the receiver, fed up with it.

Remember when you were about thirteen years old and life was all about making good grades and not falling into peer pressure? Then high school rolls by and it's all about picking out a pretty kick ass college? Well I'm going to let you in on a little secret, by the time you are about twenty and high school is over and you can't pay for your college tuition because for some reason your scholarship money isn't getting through, life becomes _all_ about money.

Next thing you know, you are applying for two jobs, just praying it would be enough for at least two classes at the dream college you've been working for, since you were like… ten years old at least and piling up lie after lie to your mother for why you can't come home for thanksgiving. Not like anyone wants to go home on Thanksgiving, but you guys see where I'm coming from.

It's a real bummer too, because just yesterday I was all excited, thinking to myself, _Yes! This is where my life begins!_ Little did I know, I had some trouble in the financial department. UGH! Peter Pan was right! Wendy should have just stayed in Neverland!

Okay, but really! Long story short… I need a job.

Like a REALLY good one. If only I knew where to look.

Reader's Note:

Okay, I'm not gonna lie. This story is going to be written pretty simply. They may be three pages at most, but I'm writing it this way for a reason. These are suppose to be like flashbacks, memories really and written as Pepper remembers them. Anyway, thank you for reading and tell me what you think. Love it, Hate it, Don't understand it. Either way. Please…

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	2. Chapter 2

My first job, I was working the drive through at In and Out. I was sixteen, and overwhelmed with the chaos that is customer service. Fast Food restaurants and Retail stores, are kind of like the boot camp of the working community. It's like an initiation or training program, to get you ready to deal with the real war, that is called corporate. Whether if you're the store manager, or just staff worker at Kaiser Hospital, your roll is extremely important and asks for the most basic kind of service there is. Customer Service.

I begin to wonder why we even put it on our resumes anymore. You need it everywhere you go. Doesn't matter if you are working for someone, or if you were your own boss. Customer Service is the most basic, most important quality to have and if you don't have it, then you get it. Doesn't matter where. Piano Teacher, Cafeteria volunteer at school, or even if it's just a lemonade stand on the side walk. Get it! Because you will need it.

Let me give you an example.

You see that guy, blindly about to run into me. There he is. The one with the beer in his hand and the car keys in the other, though he is far from the parking lot.

Don't worry, you'll know who I'm talking about because he's about to run into that other customer, who is just innocently trying to leave the dinner and then.. there you go! You see him! Yes, that's him! He just ran/fell into me.

You wanna know something? Something funny? I thought to myself, yes Pepper! That's brilliant! Work at a diner! They need help, you get to keep the tips, and it would be totally chill, don't even have to worry about it. Ever!

Now look at me! I've completely fallen on my ass, I've been dressed like a salad in Guinness White beer, number four table's food is splattered all over the floor -even though I _just_ mopped- and he won't… GET OFF!

"Ohhhh! Oh! I'm soo- Sorry!" he hiccups, struggling to stand. Suddenly he starts bursting into laughter for absolutely no reason at all.

This is what I mean. Please… those of you who have yet to know what it feels like to work. Pay real close attention, because one day this may be you.

First, you calmly attempt to untangle yourself from the deranged drunk idiot.

Second, though every part of you is telling you to do this, do not -I repeat- do NOT hit him across the head with the (now) empty beer bottle.

Third, apologise to the customers who were waiting for their dinner, now must wait for it to made all over again, and offer a free desert.

And last but not least, after you are done cleaning the floor, and informing the cook what had happened, and tell him to make another order along with free dessert, you take the deranged drunk idiot out of the restaurant and wait for a taxi.

You learn this, and you will be ready for any kind of customer who will burst to your job, and ruin your day.

It was cold outside. I wished I had at least an extra pair of clothes in my locker, but how would I know I was going to be ambushed by some staggering weirdo. He was quiet for a while. I'll have to admit, it was pretty odd. Usually people who are that gone are screaming at the top of their lungs utter nonsense, but he wasn't. He looked like he was trying not to throw up. It was then I realized he wasn't trying to heave, he was muttering something.

"What?" I said, realizing he was talking to me.

He rubbed his eyes, almost as if he were just doing all he could to keep himself conscious. "I said," he said louder. He stopped rubbing his eyes and looked at me, "I'm _really_ sorry."

I don't know if it was because I hit my head on the side of one of the booths when I fell, or because I actually saw real, genuine embarrassment and profound shame in his eyes, but I just nod my head in response, "It's fine." Though my tone was controlled, and you can still hear the irritation behind it, I truly meant what I said.

"My name is Tony. Tony Stark," he said.

I look at him and my eyes are still glaring at him, but it's mild glaring, now the chaos is over. From the outside window I saw the family had finally gotten their food, and looked like they're enjoying themselves, so I take a deep breath and say, "Virginia. Virginia Potts, but my friends call me Pepper."

"Pepper," he smiles, "I like that." I roll my eyes at him.

_As if!_

"Hey, Pep," he mumbles looking like he's about to pass out. "Do me a favor," I listen real closely because his voice is lowering, "don't go to the press about this."

"What?" I ask, but it's too late. Suddenly Mr. Stark bends over and pukes all over my shoes. I don't even look, because I could already feel it in my socks, "Son of a…!"

READER'S NOTE

Best part about short chapters, I get to update them faster. Now my next update will be tomorrow. Anyway, love it, hate it, don't understand it. Don't care if you just randomly type "CHEESE!" just please…

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	3. Chapter 3

My poor shoes. My poor, sad ruined shoes. It was like they were crying at me. Screaming, "Why!? Why did you let this happen to us!?"

"I'm soo sorry shoes! I really am!"

It took me all night just to get the smell out, scrubbing fabric (thank god these weren't leather) and that is why I was almost late meeting Mark for lunch the next day.

For those of you who are not in college yet, little bit of advice. Do good in school, because your grades in high school, matter in college. Doesn't matter how well you do on the placement exam. You will eventually have to make up those grades, one way or another. They are picking students who they believe will represent the school well in their own unique and successful way. They're also looking for drive, so join a club, take a class, or get a hobbie. Express yourself the best way you can. Don't be my cousin Mark.

Mark works the cash register at the "Pit Stop" gas station. He was suppose to go to MIT and get a degree in engineering but said he didn't want the very thing he loved in his life, to be his career. If you asked me, it was already his career. People come to him for advice and he takes projects sometimes, but he doesn't get paid. I don't know, I don't get it.

Since I moved to California, we've been meeting at the same deli shop, at the end of the week. Almost a religious ritual for the both of us , we are never late for this meeting. "Hey!" I greet him, as if I haven't seen him in years. With the week I've been having, it's feeling that way.

I don't even wait for him to get to the table. I stand up and we meet halfway. Wrapping my arms around his neck, he gently lifts me from the ground for a brief moment, then offers me a chair. "So cousin," he begins, "How is life as a struggling," he pauses for a moment trying to come up with the words, "whatever you are!" His tone is condescending and full of judgement, but it's okay because it's said with love.

"I'm a student!" I cry, playfully punching him in the shoulder. "it's better than being a cashier my whole life."

"Ouch! At least I'm not paying thousands of dollars on education I can find in a library."

"Actually yes you are," I say smiling back, rivaling his own arrogant grin, "It's called taxes."

Mark nods his head, toning down his usual smart-ass personality, "touche."

It didn't take long for things to get awkward. I like to bring this up because the look in his eyes at the end of these conversations are usually the same. Kind of full of sorrow and regret, but don't get me wrong. I LOVE my cousin, but I'd rather see him fill himself with regret, then be okay with setting his own standards so low. Not that there is anything wrong with being a cashier, but there _is_ something wrong with being something you _know_ you don't want to be. Especially if you know you don't have to be that way.

The worst thing in this world is to be your own bully, because only you can save you from yourself.

When I walk home, I myself find I fill myself with guilt for saying such mean things, but wouldn't you say anything, if you knew it could help someone you loved? It's the only reason why we get in these conversations. Mark doesn't think I should work so hard, I think he should work a little harder.

I'm usually quiet by the time I make it home, but this wasn't a usual day. By the time I make it home there is a box of shoes on the door mat. What is a box of shoes doing on my doormat?

"What is a box of shoes doing on my doormat?" I ask myself again out loud, hoping I'd actually get an answer that way. There is an envelope on the corner of the box and I instantly bend down to pick it up, along with the box cradled in my arm. When I take a closer look at the shoes, I realize it's the exact shoes, that were ruined the night before. Of course mine were knock-offs. There on the other hand...

"What. The. Hell?"

I read the note:

Dear Pepper,

Sorry about the shoes.

Hope these can replace the

old ones.

-Tony Stark

I look at the shoes again and shake my head, "Geez. I can't take these."

READER'S NOTE-

Sorry guys that was much longer than I originally intended. I didn't mean for that to happen, but I've been swamped with things to do. Shout out to all my reviewers, you guys are REALLY awesome! Hope you guys enjoy the rest of the story!

REVIEW!


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Ironman, Drama, Humor