I know this story was marked 'complete' but I felt the need to add this second piece to it both to celebrate Agent Carter season two and to lament Angie's not being in it so far. I miss her. A lot. So, here you are:
Ever since she'd arrived in this wonderful place, Angie has never given any thought to leaving the city. She loves the sights, the smells—the quiet serenity of the Brooklyn Bridge appearing out of a foggy morning and the sea green tint on the copper of Lady Liberty as she gazes unceasingly out to sea. But it isn't just the tourists traps that enthrall her, equally she loves the tiny bagel shop on 32nd that is nothing more than a doorway the width of the brim of Peggy's red hat and the French-style Patisserie that is large and spacious and always has the scent of fresh chocolate croissants wafting out of it.
But things change, the people she spends her time with change, and they change her as well. It's around eleven o'clock in the morning when the secretary of Turner & Turner Broadway Productions comes rushing at her, carrying a telephone aloft with the wires stretched out behind her all the way back into her office. The other few girls in pin-stripe pink dresses who made it to final auditions pause their vocal exercises and watch unabashedly as the pudgy woman stops in front of Angie.
"Urgent telephone call for you, dear!" she announces, practically shoving the black-and-bronze contraption in her face.
Angie picks it up, glancing around the green-wallpapered waiting room with its polished wooden floors and shiny brass door handles. Definitely a step up from where her auditions used to take place a year ago. "Hello?"
"I'm your sister, and I've just called to inform you that our mother is in the hospital, gravely ill," English's signature accent comes through.
It takes Angie a second to orient herself, but there's a definite waver in her voice as she replies. "How long ago? Is she all right?" She adds a shocked look and a sniffle for good measure.
"Listen, I need to talk to you," Peggy says hurriedly. "Is it possible you could meet me at the diner in twenty minutes?"
"Of course, Peg, I'll be there as soon as I can," Angie says in a distraught voice. If the producers could see her now—no question they'd give her the part. "Just tell Mother not to head towards the light until I can get there!" Maybe that is overdoing it a little, but her rapt audience is lapping it up.
"Thank you," her friend says sincerely in her ear. Angie places the phone back on its holder amid stares and hushed whispers. Two of the other girls seem to be hiding smiles that she'll be leaving, increasing their chances. She ignores them, focused on the task ahead, and conjures up fake tears.
"May I go?" Angie asks the secretary, Ms. Marsh. "My momma's in the hospital, and the doctors don't know how long she'll last, and—"
"Go, don't worry about it, dear!" the woman exclaims. "We'll reschedule, no problem at all."
Angie smiles sadly and thanks her, seeing the two girls disappointed—and red-faced that Angie noticed their less-than-sympathetic attitudes—as she makes eye contact with them. She plays the part until she's out of the building and on the street. Luckily the offices of her newest potential production are not far from the diner, and she sets off at a brisk walk despite her heels, wondering what is so important that it can't wait until both of them get home at the end of the day to the large, luxurious residence they share courtesy of Mr. Stark. Given Peggy's profession, it could be anything, really. She just hopes she's not in trouble again—that no SSR agents are trying to arrest her again.
Angie walks faster, careful not to twist her ankle on an unexpected cobblestone, feeling the sun heat up the back of her neck normally covered by her hair. It's in an up-do today because she'd heard a rumor that these producers like girls best whose hair is up. It's all in appearances first, one thing she'd learned trying to get on Broadway. Only then do you get to display your talent and voice.
She makes it to the old diner just in time, sees across the street and a little ways down from it the New York Bell Co., where she knows Peggy secretly works. Most of the commute traffic has slowed for the lull period in the middle of the day, so it's mostly young women pushing strollers and chatting with each other that she's dodging around once she realizes Peggy's already there, seated in a booth by the window.
The L&L Automat. The look of it hasn't changed much in the month and a half since she hung up her apron—hopefully for good—and focused the entirety of her attention on kickstarting her Broadway career. But she does notice with slight satisfaction the counters aren't as polished as when she worked here, and with definite dissatisfaction that some of the more nasty regulars are still occupying their favorite seats. They have a new waitress to heckle, a pretty petite thing even younger than Angie was when she first started. Angie resolves to leave her a large tip even if Peggy doesn't plan on them staying long enough to eat anything.
"Angie," Peggy greets her with a smile. She slides into the booth seat as the secret agent consults her watch. She has a cup of tea half-drunk in front of her, the scent of Earl Grey wafting off of the translucent brown liquid. "You made good time from Turner & Turner."
"Good to see you too, English," Angie grins. "Considering I missed you this morning. You were gone before I even got up." It's so good to be seated in one of these pea green booths without having to look over her shoulder for the manager every half second.
"Ah, yes, sorry about that," Peggy apologizes, taking a sip of tea. "There was a mission of...interesting circumstances that needed attending to. But I think you'll be glad to know that Dottie is now out of our lives forever."
"You caught her?" Her eyebrows shot upwards. "English, that's amazing! I still can't believe she fooled all of us, including Miriam. She's such a good actress; she should be on Broadway."
"I sincerely hope not," Peggy laughs, setting her beverage down. "Imagine trying to catch someone constantly in the spotlight with the press always on your tail. Not my cup of tea, thank you."
"So is that the big news, why you called me here?" Angie asks, still excited but brows furrowing. "'Cause it seems like the type of thing that could be celebrated tonight with a bottle of schnapps."
"I'm going to Los Angeles," Peggy says suddenly.
"That's amazing!" Angie bursts out. "I've always been fascinated by California, the dry heat and surfing and the obsession with floral shirts..." She catches Peggy's uncertain expression. "But of course you'll be working, so...maybe just surfing on weekends?" Her friend laughs but still appears worried, dampening Angie's spirits. "Is...is it dangerous? How long are you going to be gone?" Nearly all of the excitement has drained from Angie's voice as she asks, "You're coming back to New York, right?"
"I will," Peggy promises. "I just don't know when that will be. The man I worked with, the one with the war injury..."
"The one you're sweet on," Angie cuts in with a laugh.
Her friend gives her a scandalized look. "Angie!"
"Sorry," she says, not sorry at all. She's never sorry for breaking Peggy's stoic nature and causing a tiny bit of a blush to appear on her porcelain face. English can stand to loosen up a little. "So it could be a long time?"
"I'm not sure how long Daniel will want me in Los Angeles," Peggy tells her.
"Hey, if you move, I'll just move with you!" Angie chirps without even giving it a second thought. "Living with you, English, has been the best experience of my life." She pauses. "And not just for the luxury of having a phone in every room at Stark's house," she adds.
Peggy shakes her head. "Angie, you can't leave. You're so close to Broadway now."
"Well, Los Angeles is the home of Hollywood..." she grins.
"But you don't want to be trapped behind a camera; you've always said what you love about theatre was feeling the energy of the audience," Peggy says gently. "It means a lot to me that you would want to move across the country for me, but...your heart is here, in New York, Angie."
She sighs. "I know. But I'll miss you while you're gone."
"I'll miss you too," Peggy smiles.
"When are you leaving?" Angie asks.
"As soon as I pack a bag," she replies. "I wanted to tell you first." Peggy stands from the table and Angie nearly bowls her over with a giant bear hug. "Good luck with your auditions, Angie."
"Good luck with your case," she tells her, strands of the brunette's immaculately curled hair tickling her nose. "And with Daniel."
Peggy rolls her eyes as she pulls away. "Goodbye, Angie," she says, walking towards the door.
"See you soon." Angie prefers that to goodbye. "And send me a postcard!" she calls after her. She places the large tip she promised under Peggy's half-finished mug, then takes one last look around the diner.
"Hey, didn't you use to work here, sweetheart?" one of the men squints at her, midway through shoveling a plateful of eggs into his overly large mouth. With a jolt she recognizes him as the man who called her out before about her dress, the first day she met Peggy Carter—how does she even remember him still?
Nevertheless, she does. "Yes, but not anymore." Another thought occurs to her. Angie smiles widely. "I'm on Broadway now." The man chokes on his scrambled while Angie turns on her heel and walks toward the door, pushing it open and letting herself out into the sunlight. It's a lie, sort of—but soon, it won't be. She sees through the window that he's still staring at her, staring at her with a little bit of awe and a lot of respect. Exactly what the producers of Turner & Turner will be looking at her with after the audition. And if they don't, well… It's New York; there's always another company who'll recognize her talents.
She knows her value.
It's something English taught her.
Hope you liked it! A lot of you probably needed an Angie-fix as much as I did, so I hope this helped. I'll leave this story marked complete like last time, but I'm not ruling out another one of these come season three ;)