The Marvel Studios building is exactly what you'd expect.
Modern. Sleek. Giant Avengers poster in the lobby.
I've been here twice before—once for the initial eting with Sarah last year, once for a set visit. Both tis felt surreal.
Today feels different.
Today they're offering real money.
Sarah ets in the lobby. "Stuart! Right on ti."
"Wouldn't want to be late."
"Kevin's excited to et you. He's heard good things."
Kevin Feige. President of Marvel Studios. The man overseeing the entire Marvel Cinematic Universe.
No pressure.
His office overlooks Burbank. Sleek desk, minimal decoration. Movie posters on the walls—Iron Man, The Incredible Hulk.
"Stuart Bloom." He stands, shakes my hand firmly. "Sarah's been singing your praises for months."
"She's very kind."
"She's very accurate." He gestures to a chair. "Sit. Let's talk."
Sarah sits beside . Kevin leans against his desk, casual but focused.
"Here's the situation. We're building sothing unprecedented. A shared universe across multiple films. Everything needs to connect, but each movie needs to stand alone. You with ?"
"Connected but distinct."
"Exactly." He pulls out a folder. "Iron Man 2 starts production in three months. Thor next year. Captain Arica after that. We need soone who understands both the source material and mainstream audience appeal. Soone who can say 'this feels right' or 'this feels off' without ego."
"And you think that's ?"
"Sarah thinks it's you. And I trust Sarah." He opens the folder. "Your comic shop success shows business acun. Your consulting work shows cultural knowledge. Your WonderCon presence shows industry respect. You're exactly what we need."
The tingle flares.
He doesn't know about future knowledge. Doesn't know you've already seen these movies. Doesn't know you're cheating.
I push it down.
"What would the role entail?"
"Script consultation. Set visits. Authenticity review on props, costus, dialogue. Anything that touches comic accuracy goes through you." He slides a paper across the desk. "Two thousand a week for six months. Renewable based on performance."
Two thousand a week.
Eight thousand a month.
Forty-eight thousand for six months.
On top of shop revenue. On top of existing consulting. On top of investnts.
My hands don't shake. The Attractiveness power has progressed enough that I can fake calm even when my brain is screaming.
"That's generous."
"That's what the position is worth." Kevin watches carefully. "But let be clear—this isn't a favor. You'll work. Script reviews on tight deadlines. Set visits at 5 AM. Arguing with directors who think they know better. It's not glamorous."
"I understand."
"Do you? Because a lot of people hear 'Marvel Studios' and think it's all red carpets and premiere parties. The actual work is tedious."
Fair point.
"I run two comic shops. I know about tedious work."
He smiles. "Good answer."
Sarah leans forward. "Stuart, I've worked with a dozen consultants. Most care about getting their na in the credits. You care about getting it right. That's rare."
"So?" Kevin crosses his arms. "You interested?"
The mory tingles again. Stronger.
Iron Man 2 releases 2010. Makes $623 million. Thor makes $449 million. Captain Arica makes $370 million. The MCU becos the most successful franchise in film history. You could be part of that. From the beginning.
"Can I negotiate?"
Kevin's eyebrows rise. "Shoot."
"Twenty-five hundred a week. I'll need to hire another employee to cover shop hours. And I want flexibility—if I have a scheduling conflict, we work it out."
"Bold."
"Confident."
He considers. Then extends his hand.
"Deal. Twenty-five hundred a week, renewable after six months. Welco to Marvel Studios."
I keep it together until I reach my car.
Sit in the parking structure, door closed, alone.
Then allow myself one mont of pure elation.
Sixty thousand dollars for six months of part-ti consulting.
My total 2009 inco is going to exceed two hundred thousand.
At twenty-seven.
Because I have supernatural advantages and future knowledge and powers that make people want to work with .
Cheating. All cheating. Every dollar built on impossible information.
But—
But also genuinely earned. I showed up to etings prepared. Built a reputation through quality work. Created value beyond just predictions.
The Marvel opportunity ca through Magnetism, sure. But I sealed it through competence.
Doesn't that count for sothing?
I call Penny from the car.
She answers on the first ring. "So?!"
"I got it."
"STUART! OH MY GOD!"
"Twenty-five hundred a week for six months."
"WHAT?! That's—holy shit, that's sixty thousand dollars!"
"Yeah."
"Stuart, that's incredible! We're celebrating! Tonight! I'm picking the place and you're paying because you're about to be stupidly rich!"
I laugh. Can't help it.
"Okay. Where?"
"Sowhere fancy. Like, cloth napkins fancy. You deserve it."
"I'm already in Burbank. Want to et at the shop? We can go from there."
"Perfect. Give forty-five minutes. And Stuart?"
"Yeah?"
"I'm so proud of you. Really. This is—you've worked so hard. You deserve this."
The words should feel good.
They do feel good.
But underneath: the knowledge that none of this is fully deserved. That every advantage ca from stolen ti.
"Thanks, Penny. See you soon."
At the Burbank shop, Jake's handling the register. Three custors browsing. Everything running smoothly.
This is the delegation I needed. Hiring Jake freed up hours. Promoting Marcus to manager gave Pasadena stability.
My empire is becoming self-sustaining.
Which ans ti for Marvel. For Penny. For life beyond constant work.
"Boss!" Jake waves. "How'd the eting go?"
"Got the gig."
"Seriously?! Marvel Studios?!"
"Seriously."
"Dude, that's insane. You're going to be in the credits of Marvel movies."
"Maybe. If they give consultants credits."
"Still counts." He rings up a custor. "Does this an you're leaving the shops?"
"No. Just delegating more. You good here?"
"Yeah, man. Got it covered."
I grab inventory reports from the office. Review them while waiting for Penny.
Both shops profitable. Pasadena doing forty-two thousand monthly revenue. Burbank doing thirty-eight thousand. Combined eighty thousand monthly, minus expenses and employee salaries—probably thirty thousand profit monthly.
Add consulting inco. Add Marvel inco.
Add investnt growth.
I'm going to make three hundred thousand this year.
From a standing start eighteen months ago.
With supernatural help, yes.
But also with work. Strategy. Risk-taking.
Maybe it's both. Maybe success is always both—opportunity and execution.
Maybe I can live with that.
Penny arrives wearing a dress. Actual dress, makeup, heels.
"Wow."
"You're taking sowhere fancy. I dressed accordingly." She spins. "Too much?"
"Perfect."
"Good. Now co on. We're celebrating properly."
We end up at a steakhouse downtown. Expensive. Dim lighting, wine list longer than so novels.
"This is—Penny, this is really expensive."
"You just got sixty thousand dollars. You can afford one steak."
Fair.
We order. Champagne arrives.
"To Marvel Studios," Penny raises her glass. "And to my boyfriend who's apparently secretly Tony Stark."
"I'm not—"
"Rich genius with business empire? Sounds like Tony Stark to ."
We clink glasses. Drink.
The champagne is excellent. The steak better.
"Can I ask you sothing?" Penny sets down her fork.
"Always."
"How does this feel? The Marvel thing. Really."
"Surreal. Exciting. Terrifying."
"Because?"
"Because it's Marvel. Because I'm twenty-seven. Because eighteen months ago I was failing at everything and now I'm—" I gesture vaguely. "—this."
"Successful?"
"Lucky."
"Stuart." She leans forward. "Luck doesn't build two shops. Luck doesn't get you consulting gigs. Luck doesn't make Kevin Feige offer you twenty-five hundred a week."
"Luck helps."
"Sure. But you did the work. You earned this."
If only you knew.
"Thanks."
"I an it. Stop downplaying." She takes my hand. "You're allowed to be proud. You're allowed to celebrate. You're allowed to feel good about success you worked for."
The words are kind.
The guilt still sits heavy.
But Penny's smile is genuine. Her pride is real.
And sharing this mont with soone who celebrates —not my money, not my status, but the achievent itself—
That makes it bearable.
"Thank you," I say. "For this. For being excited. For caring."
"Of course I care." She squeezes my hand. "You're my boyfriend. Your wins are my wins."
"Even when I'm terrible at bowling?"
"Especially then. Makes you human."
We finish dinner. Walk to the car holding hands.
"You know what the best part is?" Penny asks.
"What?"
"lissa would've been happy for you. But she wouldn't get it. Not really." Penny looks up at . "I get it. The Marvel thing, the shops, why it matters. I understand what you built."
"Yeah. You do."
And that—that makes all the difference.
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