Chapter 35: Solutions to Conflict
For the second time today the teen photographer was in the NBC cashier room that was a third the size of his High School cafeteria.
Was he dreaming? Everything was working out for Richard Fitzpatrick— most commonly known as Peter Parker, to the world outside of NBC News.
On this second go-around, Peter had photos of the earlier meta fight that took place in upper Manhattan. And this time he did not have to deal with the super-nosey Frank Dolmen. It was a little after 6 PM—the Huntley-Brinkley Report was being broadcast (and if there was any doubt, the spacious cashier room had four large wall-mounted TVs showing it) .
What a relief when he was told by the secretary that Frank never left the studio when the news duo was on the air. There was a second assistant news editor, Lester Harms, who attended the young photographer. Lester took the photos, told the secretary to write the check and, in effect, told "Richard" to scram. Man, oh man— this guy was a pleasure to do business with.
Because of the time of the day, 9 of the 10 teller windows were closed. The teenager was the last person on a line of 10 people. He allowed those in front of him to influence the focus of his attention—the adults had turned to the TVs and so did he.
The TV screens was showing a press conference and though the mayor started the event, it was clear that Giant-Man had gotten control of it. He did the intros and Richard Wagner was reduced to a medals-giver.
The Unicorn came up to get her ribbon. Peter was beginning to get that same guilty feeling he had when he was caught along with Iceman ogling her well-endowed body from behind
The heroine's decision to have as little screen time as possible was a help in shedding that burden.
Son of a gun, if Giant-man didn't get around to accepting the Keys To The City on behalf of Spider-man. He heaped praises on the wall-crawler and Peter began to blush again …. this time for a better reason.
What a swell guy the Avenger was. Hopefully, this will turn public opinion around and Spider-man could be seen as a hero. Hopefully, it would also turn around-and-around J. Jonah Jameson's stomach so that he couldn't eat or sleep for a week.
It took a while, but the youth finally heard a woman call out to him. Peter turned away from the screen to see that there was no one in front of him. From some 25 feet away the female teller at the window was calling him so that she could close up.
Less than a minute later, the check was cashed. Peter secured the bills in his right pants pocket before he was out the door. Halfway to the elevator banks, he realized that he was the only person on the floor. No one around? Man, oh man—the super-elated Mr. Parker was tempted to do a triple somersault that was only possible for Spider-man. It was fortunate that he did not.
"Richard! Richard!" a familiar and irritating voice shouted behind him.
"Yeah, Dolmen stays in the studio," Peter inwardly lamented. "My hairless butt, he does."
The young picture-taker could not permit another session as he had this morning. The round-bellied, glass-wearing, middle-aged man with a bad comb-over asked a ton of questions as to how photographer Richard Fitzgerald could catch Spider-man and his foes at close range.
"That's my secret" was a response that did little to deflect Frank's questionings. And Peter wasn't dumb enough to be rude to the guy who paid him generously.
Being deluged by too many questions could lead to a slip-up. If Frank Dolmen gets a hint as to the Spider-man-Fitzgerald connection, he could not be trusted to keep it from the public. It was a sensational scoop, after all.
Once J. Jonah Jameson heard of it, he'd add fuel to the fire. Jameson knew that Richard and Peter were the same person. Both Peter and his aunt would be in danger for the rest of their lives.
They were the only two in that hallway, but Peter pretended that he hadn't heard Dolmen. Peter increased his pace. The young man knew that Dolmen was going to be on him like a fly on dog crap.
Wait a minute! Peter just realized what he was in that imagery. He definitely needed another analogy.
Anyway, the young photographer could not stop at the elevator door— that would be where the nosey man could corner him.
The teenager redirected his feet towards the Men's Room. He was going to use the same evasive moves that worked on the loudmouth high school jock, Flash Thomas.
Peter swung open the door, but he found all the stalls occupied. It was good because there were no eyes on him. It was bad because he usually needed to duck into a stall to beginning his crawl along the ceiling towards freedom. He had to improvise.
Behind him, the door swung close. Peter jumped and his mighty legs brought him up to the ceiling. His fingers glued him there as he rounded his body.
As anticipated, Frank Dolmen cannonballed into the bathroom. The top of the quick-moving door nearly hit the tips of Peter's shoe. Dear Lord, what could Peter have said if Dolmen looked up to investigate that noise?
The assistant news director marched forward. Peter took off one shoe and he dropped down on his socked foot. He landed so quietly that one would have sworn he had kittens' paws instead of feet. He backtracked into the lonely hallway as the closing door gave him cover.
The teenager raced towards the emergency staircase. 10 stories of butt-hauling was of little consequence if he could avoid Dolmen. On his way to the stairs, he took a swipe at the elevator button—hey, you never know.
As a matter of fact, he was on the twelfth step of the stairway when he heard the "ding" announcing the elevator's arrival. It took a tremendous jump to make it back before the exit door locked him out of the floor.
The two women in the elevator seemed amused as Peter returned his shoe to its rightful place. As the sliding doors concealed the hallway from Peter's eyes, he envisioned Dolmen knocking on all the stalls. If he met the wrong guy, the irate bowl-sitter would probably come out with toilet paper hanging out of his… eh, …. anyway the angry guy would probably grab Dolmen and shake him by the collar—and mind you, the angry guy would not have washed his hands yet. Uuugh!
This was all speculation, of course, but what was a surer bet was a chance of a slip of his tongue had he stayed and opened himself up to the pressure of Dolmen's inquisition.
The elevator doors reopened to the grand lobby. As they had earlier in the day, Peter's eyes were bombarded with the rows of colorful stores that lined all the sides of the main floor. The first time this happened, Peter just zipped through and took the subway home.
This time, dismissing his better judgment, Peter stopped in front of a chocolatier shop that had sculpted chocolates that made Easter Bunnies look primitive. The youth reached into his pocket to finger the wad of cash.
Betty would love the 1920 car with colored icing—mainly red. Heck, Peter, himself, was ready to chomp on the wheels that had white chocolate spokes and a halved jelly bean hub. The traditional candy box on the car's left looked like Aunt May's style.
Sure! Why not? Peter had the money. Whoa—maybe the Wright Brothers-type air plane would be a bigger thrill for Betty. He made up his mind, but before he could enter the store, the teenager heard that familiar, annoying voice again.
"Richard, Richard!"
Betty's beau quickly headed towards the revolving doors. Once on the sidewalk, it would be easy to hide among the mass of humanity.
Darn it—the people in front of the revolving doors were moving as quick as molasses on a winter day.
From the reflection of the door's glass, Peter could make out the advancing Dolmen. In mere seconds, that pest would reach him.
He hated to do it, but what choice did Peter have? Over his long sleeve shirt, he quickly slid his web cartrige holder down to his left wrist. A web only a little thicker than a human hair shot away to snare a large shopping bag belonging to a woman a few feet on his right. With a slight hand movement that had the power of a horse's kick, he tugged the bag away from the woman's hand.
Because it was so thin, the web had little surface to stick upon, so the pull brought the line back to Peter. The bag fell in front of his pursuer. Sure enough, Dolmen went down…. HARD. Even Peter winced.
And just as surely, a good portion of the people in front of the teen surrounded the fallen NBC employee to see if he was hurt. That was all Peter needed to make his escape into the street.
The temperature was noticeably cooler than when he had entered the building. The outside air was as invigorating as his escape.
Peter did not enter the nearest subway station to go home. This morning, snoopy Frank managed to get out of "Richard" the info that he was a Queens resident.
When the middle-aged man gets off the floor, Dolmen would surely try his luck finding the photographer in the underground. Peter opted to walk south to the 42nd street entrance of the F train.
It was a shame, really. Peter had been paid with two large checks. The first bills were safely in his drawer under his underwear. With these bills that he was now carrying, Peter had wanted to buy something for Betty and Aunt May in that store. Whoa, hey.
Mr. Parker had stopped in his track when he saw a billboard outside of Radio City Music Hall.
The sign read, "Vegas In New York." For three nights only, New Yorkers could be thrilled by Liberace's piano-playing, Sammy Davis Jr.'s singing and Joey Bishop's humor. What may have sounded like an extravaganza for the older crowd was actually a teenager's yawn-a-thon.
But you know what? Aunt May, you little sweetie… your nephew just thought of a nifty little way to say thank you for all those years you had cared for him. So grab your best outfit. Peter will grab a couple of thermos filled with extra-strong coffee and you both are going to have a night on the town.
It was a little after 7 PM. Hank was freshly out of his hero garb and sitting on his recliner, checking his mail. An envelope with an officious return address from Texas caught his eye. Before he separated it from the other mail, Jan marched into the room. She was in a challenging mood.
She asked why did the usually reserved man invite so many people to an impromptu dinner? He wasn't about tell her that part of the reason for the get-together was Yolanda's return. He doubted that Jan even knew that Yolanda had left. He doubly doubted that if she knew, the return of the young genius was something Jan would never celebrate with a dinner.
He replied to Jan saying that the dinner was a sort-of hello to two new guests. These girls stood a chance of being new residences if no suitable home was found for them.
Why was he "hung up with these girls" she asked. Hank didn't know, but that didn't lessen his resolve to shelter them.
She then asked why he had invited Dr. Blake. Her tone was almost scolding when she said that they had no connection to him other than the Doc was a go-between to contact Thor.
This was the biggest cut into Hank's otherwise good mood. Did Jan forget, or simply not care, that Donald Blake was the family physician to the Adamski and Gilbert families. And when Brygitka and Delfina had money problems, Dr. Blake considered their bills 80 percent paid before they even reached into their pocketbooks. In short, the dinner was Dr. Pym's small way of showing his appreciation for Dr. Blake and his generosity.
Hank refused to show his displeasure over her last question. Henry Pym tried to explain his reason in a calm manner when Jan cut him short. She had to "attend to something."
He nearly chuckled since her sudden remembrance of this something coincided with the arrival of dinner guests. Outside of her Wasp heroics, Jan was a Diva. She'd never admit that, though.
As with most Divas, no matter how small the event may have been, a head-turning entrance was part of the parcel. Jan's departure was a relief to Hank Pym.
Replacing the reprimanding woman were the cheery guests— Delfina's hubby Peter; Dr. Blake and his attractive date, Jane Foster; Byrgitka's Stanislaw; their adult daughter Uma with her son Walter and her daughter Halina.
If there was an extra kick to seeing anyone, it came from Uma. She went from brunette to redhead. Henry hoped that this surprise was a sign that she was ready to move on from her heartbreak.
Dmitri Smerdyakov had long ago became accustomed to his white mask. It was like his real face now. He wore it every minute except for showering.
The Chameleon sat on his favorite chair in his East Village townhouse. The outside of the abode was plain, but the insides reflected the finer, expensive taste of the communist agent. It would be anyone's dream dwelling, if one didn't mind the collection of eyeless faces sagging on hooks on an adjacent wall.
He leaned in to hear a tape recorder on the small table beside him. It was a distraction from his misery. The misery wasn't of his own doing. He had set up the burglars and the place so that his half-brother, Kraven, the hunter, could get a personal look at the agility and skills of Spider-man before he attempted to capture the American hero. Dmitri understood that a firsthand viewing was infinitesimally far profitable than seeing the red-and-blue-slime on film. What he didn't understand was, if Kraven had Spider-man's game down after his study, why not attack right there and then? To wait another day was frustrating.
The recording should keep his mind off his oafish ally. Dmitri still had connections to the high ranking operatives in the KGB. Dmitri got wind of an entirely different strategy against the United States. He asked an important comrade about it over the phone. The Chameleon recorded the conversation that was hidden behind code words.
The Chameleon was hearing it a second time. In addition to turning his mind elsewhere, Dmitri was using this time to judge if the true meaning of the words were not decipherable— there was always a chance that an FBI phone interception unit was overhearing the conversation,
The disclosing comrade revealed the happenings inside of a secret laboratory under an unnamed Mexican town. The location was close enough to move the experimental subject into the United States in a half hour when the project was ready.
The master of false identities was enticed by the idea of kidnapping American Scientist Bruce Banner and forcing him to work for the Soviets. It also entertained him to hear how.
The green behemoth, the Hulk, appeared shortly after the explosion of the Gamma Bomb that Dr. Banner had engineered. Therefore the Soviets theorized that the powerful monster was somehow produced by that explosion. One Soviet soldier was chosen to daily undergo low levels of Gamma Ray treatment to enhance his physical strength. It was a success. This subject currently had the strength of one hundred men.
Only the soldier's forehead was not treated, in order to avoid brain damage. The subject will soon have a suit of impenetrable armor mesh fused onto his body. The indestructible substance will be as much his body as Dmitri's mask was to his face.
But the Chameleon could not understand the choice of subject…. Aleksei Sytsevich? Dmitri's former partner, Timur, was stupid— the kidnapping that idiotically turned into the murder of the American inventor Vernon Van Dyne was just one example of the fool's incompetence. But Sytsevich was worst. A spoonful of mayonnaise was brighter than that thick bodied imbecile.
Dmitri knew the man. Before the Chameleon's talent was fully appreciated, the KGB had assigned Dmitri to be one of the Soviet "body guards" who watched over all Russian competitors sent to the Olympic games. The then youthful, barrel chested brute won two gold medals in weightlifting and two silver medals in wrestling. His stupidity was his downfall in the latter sport.
And now this dolt will be the answer to the KGB's newest kidnapping plan. Who were the brilliant minds who thought this travesty up?! Even if they had given up on locating Masaryk— the Unicorn— sending Masaryk's underwear to do the kidnapping would have given the mission a better chance for success.
Dmitri could see the Timur disaster happening again. This time with the abductor having superhuman strength, the abductee
will be a lifeless mass of flesh hanging over Sytsevich's arm like a valueless coat.
Even the insufferable Kraven was a better choice. Was he not celebrated around the world as a great hunter with incredible strength?
Arrgh— to blazes with any attempt by an outsider to decode the words. Before the tape recording finished, Dmitri threw it into the fireplace. He stood up to prepared to light it. The man could handle only so much frustration. He had more than enough of it with his stupid half-brother's hesitancy to claim his prey immediately.
More than 15 minutes after Jan's exit from the first floor, Henry Pym had checked on his cheesecakes. He had found that using a baking pan that could hold 16 cupcakes was faster than baking two full-sized cheesecakes.
A puzzle to him was that after weeks of pestering him for the Pym family recipe, Yollie wasn't interested in baking them with Henry.
He had to admit to being puzzled a second time. The man who valued silence found himself enjoying all the mixed-up noise of different conversations in his living room.
In truth, he had forgotten all this. Since the death of his wife, Maria, he had not thrown a party in his home. It was a lot more inclusive than the grand events that Jan had had dragged him into. This get-together required a greater participation on his part. And as rusty as Henry Pym was with chit-chat, the exercise had a surprising familiarity that was like a refreshing cool oasis in the middle of the harsh dessert of his self-repressed emotions.
Everything seemed great. Uma, Donald Blake and Jane Foster were entertained by Peter Gilbert's silly tales of his British Navy days. Uma's kids had brought their playthings so that they were not bored. Tabatha Smith was all smiles as she followed Brygitka around the place helping the woman with the chores. Tabby was a charmer. Whenever she passed Henry, she made sure she had a smile for him. Sometimes he thought she had something to say, but evidently not. Her attention would last less than 2 seconds and then she'd whisked away to help Bryg.
Henry was happy that the girl had built a bond with the equally charming, but oft-time whacky, 57-year-old. The one singular person who didn't appreciate this attachment was Lorna. And it was understandable.
Tabby and Lorna were close in age and the harrowing adventure that they had shared had brought them together as pals. By becoming Bryg's shadow, Tabby had abandoned Lorna in Ancientville.
These older folks spoke from experiences and perspectives that Lorna had yet to have. Imagining himself in the same situation, Henry guessed that Lorna held some anger towards Tabby. But there was no guessing about the 17-year-old being bored.
Lorna's eyes were blindly staring at the coffee table in front of her. Her upper torso leaned away from the group and over the armrest of the sofa. Well, if her facial expression wasn't loud enough, her body language was deafening.
Henry walked slowly into the living room rattling his brain trying to come up with a subject that he could share and stir Lorna's interest … and in turn, ease the anger that he could only assume was inside of her.
Thank Go— eh— goodness for the ever alert Yolanda. The young woman got out of her seat to sit next to Lorna.
Since setting foot onto the foyer, more than two hours ago, Yolanda Vanko was bowled over by an overwhelming sense of embarrassment. She had ran away… RAN AWAY! She didn't immediately let the realization ensnare her because there was an award ceremony with the mayor to attend. But now ….
Dear Lord, here was the two-time Valedictorian (it would have been three times had graduation ceremonies not seemed so trivial in her later years) and genius inventor acting like a child.
She had only come back because two of her dearest friends and the man of her dreams had come hunting for her. Obviously, she was grateful for being rescued from the consequences of such an infantile behavior. But the shame kept Yolanda in her room for the most part.
She would have loved to express a deeper thank you to her dear Henry — her pounding heart had demanded it. But not now. Yolanda wanted to stay away from Henry until the horrible display of childishness was no longer stingingly fresh in her mind.
When the guests came in, the old hospitality habits instilled into her by her mother took over. But even Olesya Vanko's teaching had a tough time heaving away the entire burden of embarrassment.
To forget her shame, Yolanda overly fussed in recognition that Brygitka's grandchildren had grown taller in mere weeks. She also made a big deal about their mother, Uma, reddening her hair and looking gorgeous. Alas in both cases, the excitement was like a mouse trying to push a cement truck— the lingering regrets of this afternoon were there, unmoved.
When Henry would catch her eyes and smiled at her, the young woman flashed a quick grin and looked away. Ohhh, the embarrassment.
Her heart said one thing—talk to him. But her mind said another. She could do little more than sneak side glances at the handsome man.
It was in one of those peripheral glimpses that Yollie discovered that Henry was looking at Lorna in an uneasy way. Of course— this wonderful man was concerned. At her age Lorna was an in-betweener. The girl could not give herself to what she considered the blabber of old folks. And she would be a fish out of water trying to relate to the mindset that was typically associated with the age level of Uma's children.
Well, Yolanda didn't have to currently be in a relationship with Henry to show him the worth of her character. She got up from the recliner and sat on the sofa between Uma and the bored Lorna.
"Perhaps I hadn't told you," she said to Lorna. "Dr. Pym and I are going to start a company."
The younger teen gave her a what-the- f - -k-do-I-care type of stare.
Yolanda continued, "If you help me with something, I'll return the favor. Eh, within reason, course."
Lorna opened her mouth and Yolanda feared that the girl would tell her no deal.
What could Yolanda possible do for her that she can't do for herself?
Maybe it was coming, but Lorna stopped herself and then gave an unenthusiastic shrug of agreement.
The dispassionate teen followed the young genius out of the room. From the corner of her eyes, Yolanda saw a satisfied smile on her beloved's face. She hadn't noticed, but all memories of the afternoon's folly had vanished.
The frozen dinner was taken from the oven and placed on the kitchen table. Arthur Shapiro walked backwards from his dinner even as he eyed the food. What weighed his heart down wasn't the flimsy, faintly flavored dinner. Nor was it the fact that he ate alone. He was used to both. What disheartened Arthur was indirectly attributed to the time of year. It was almost 8PM and there was still light outside. With the better visibility, Arthur could slide away the curtain on the kitchen door and see his Lincoln in the driveway….. His Lincoln with the roof smashed.
It was that damned, stupid Grey Gargoyle. He thought he could attract Thor by capturing the biggest of Thor's Avengers buddies. And the quickest way to get to Giant-man was ….
Arthur shook his head at the sight of his damaged car. He gave an expression of pain imagining the ramifications. The short, thin man was supposed to have driven the Gargoyle to a secluded spot in Long Island. They never got there.
The grey idiot joined in on a meta fight and that battle revealed to the world that he was still alive. It also showed Arthur's employer that the stone-man was beatable not only when facing an Immortal, but lesser powered humans, as well.
Norman Osborn—Arthur's brother-in-law and boss—was sure to blame Arthur for Paul Duvall's involvement in the fight and for signing onto his security staff someone whose value as a fighter had drastically diminished in one day.
The mousey Oscorp lawyer sat in front of his dinner, but his eyes were looking at the wall-mounted telephone. If it rang, he definitely wasn't going to answer it. It would probably be the irate Osborn wanting to reach through the phone line to strangle Arthur.
Arthur looked away to nothing in particular and attempted to encourage himself. Well, didn't Arthur secure the services of Klaus Voorhees—the Cobra? And tomorrow when Professor Chen Lu escapes the US officials during his deportation, the lawyer will have delivered two powerful studs into Osborn's stable. That should turn away Norman's anger. Yep, tomorrow would be a good day.
Arthur again looked at the phone on the kitchen wall as if it was a silent lion waiting for his prey. He groaned, Tomorrow can't come quick enough.
To Henry Pym's delight, Yolanda and Lorna returned to the living room. Yollie was carrying a satchel similar to the bag that they had brought along to the stakeout-turned-battle royal.
The girl with the thin chin had a small note pad in her denim pants and she carried three coolers staked inside of themselves. They looked familiar to the dinner host.
The two took their places on the sofa and Yolanda commanded their attention.
She came out from the blue with the statement, "I had invented hand-held calculator. No longer will you have to lug a heavy machine from one room to another to resolve different inventory needs. My calculator can do everything that the leading, state of the art counterpart can do.
"But I will not show it to you, because a wonderful man"—Yolanda gestures to the seated Henry Pym, though she didn't look at him—"has introduced me to his revolutionary program which he calls digital. And now I see that my invention is obsolete even before it was introduced to the world.
"We are presently experimenting with an alarm clock radio, and the initial stages look promising. It is no wonder why I am partnering with this great genius. By the way, upon his insistence the company will be called Vanko and Pym Incorporated. To me giving me top billing was his first and only mistake."
Everyone chuckled, except for Lorna.
"I hope to present my calculator with digital programing in a few weeks. Right now I want to show our company's initial products."
Henry couldn't believe it. Yollie was hawking merchandises. Well good for her—she gets an A for effort. She was certainly shaming Henry. Even though he said he was gung-ho in starting the venture, he had to scolded himself for not being as assertive as the young female genius.
From the bag, Yolanda took out jars of cream. Uma and Jane Foster took the jars that Yollie introduced as hair removers. They were far superior to commercial brands as there was no use for wrapping one's legs. And the subsequent stinging pull-aways would be a forgotten past. The cream was even a moisturizer. Despite an appearance of indifference, even young Lorna couldn't hide her interest.
Yollie then took out two thin, rolled-up, blue torso-length mats. Yollie asked Lorna to unroll one and strap it to the recliner where Uma sat. Brygitka's daughter released a squeal of delight as she felt "small warm fingers" messaging her back.
Brygitka, Tabby and Delfina came out of the kitchen to investigate the thrilled yelp. Lorna strapped the second mat to another chair and soon everyone was taking turns getting a message.
Well, not everyone. Henry suspected that the expression on Jane's face was that of a woman who thought she was coming to dinner, but was tricked into being a captive— a captive who was obligated to buy products.
Henry thought the best way to tear down the woman's walls was to get her supposed misconception out in the open. He knew Yollie, so he was not afraid to ask a question that could have backfired with someone else.
"No, no!" the partner of Vanko and Pym, Inc replied to Henry. "This is all free. I just wanted to have them evaluated for our company."
Well, that brought a smile to Dr. Blake's date. Jane became more enthusiastic than the others.
Lorna separated the coolers that she had brought into the room. All where blue with white tops. Ah, that's why Henry thought he had seen them before. Yolanda had shown him one the first week she had moved into the penthouse.
These coolers were lined with electrodes that worked as well as any refrigerator in producing cold. And better still, these units were solar powered.
Dr. Blake thought that he would pass on that gift. Nurse Foster told him that it would be useful in the office. And when the female in a relationship says that something is a "need", the male better find it equally as indispensible, if he knew what was good for him.
Yollie's final product was a matchbox-sized item. "No doubt you have friends who have bought bug zappers and complain that these devices are useless against mosquitos. That it because mosquitos are attracted to human scent and the carbon dioxide that you exhale, not light. This little item can emit four times the allure that a human can. It is small enough to place within a bug zapper and— "
Jane asked if it gave an odor. Yolanda held it to Jane's nose and Yollie asked what she smelled.
"Nothing," Jane responded. Though the young genius would have hated to be linked to Jan Van Dyne in anyway, Henry saw that Yollie could handle a crowd as well as the ambitious fashion designer.
There was a second thing that Henry considered. The dinner host smiled as he saw a glimpse of younger Yolanda Vanko through these inventions. Before she met him—probably during her college years—Henry imagined a girl who wanted to wear dresses on date. That's where the hair removal cream came in. He saw a selfless girl who wanted to help her classmates in tough subjects. That pointed to the calculator—obviously the genius didn't need it for herself. The mosquito attractor was evident that she loved staying out late with her friends. And the back massager must have been inspired by the size of her… eh, well, … standing up straight would understandably lead to a sore back at the end of the day.
Each realization enchanted Dr. Pym. But what really opened his eyes to see that Yolanda was more of a darling than he had previously believed was that Uma was the major recipient of Yollie's smile and the first to be handed the products.
Uma needed someone to reach out to her. That was evident in the few times that Henry was asked to comment during Yollie's presentation. The stay-at-home, single mother of two children was so centered on Henry's words that it was obvious that she was starving for adult conversation.
A month ago, her husband had disappeared. The Ant-man discovered that he had moved in with another woman. When the slime-ball was confronted he didn't want to talk about the children nor his commitment to the marriage. He only wanted to know how much money per month would keep Uma away without involving a court appearance.
That left Uma to be both mom and dad to the children.
Truthfully, even before the young Miss Vanko had ended her presentation, Henry believed that he would never, ever be able to look at Yollie again without surrendering a big admiring smile.
"Now," the brilliant female inventor concluded. "I'll ask that you give your name and number to Lorna. We will call once a week to measure your satisfaction with these products."
WE?! Henry chuckled. Vanko and Pym now has a 19-year-old President/CEO and a 17-year-old product researcher.
Just as Lorna Dane had jotted down the last phone number the call for the guests to gather at the dining room was made.
Miss Vanko had so much sympathy for Uma—the woman wasn't a head-turner, but she was good woman, a good mother and attractive enough to make a husband proud. Who would have believed what happened?
The man who promised to be there for her for life did not fulfill his pledge. She had suffered the ultimate betrayal and embarrassment. Now she had to care for the two children herself. This was no light burden. It made Yolanda's cause for embarrassment seem trivial.
Still, Yolanda was a bit ticked. The few times that Henry was asked to comment, Uma reacted like his words came down from heaven. She also laughed at things that Henry never meant to be funny. Was the woman who the young genius thought was a poor thing really a predator on the hunt?
No, of course not. The terrible blow that she received would not be shrugged off so quickly. Yolanda was just hypersensitive given that she struggled to avert eye contact with Henry Pym and Uma did not. There was no reason for Brygitka's daughter to keep her distance. She wasn't the one embarrassed in front of him due to childish behavior. Yes, surely it was Yolanda's imagination. Besides, Yolanda should be supportive of Uma.
The guests got to their feet and Henry gestured to everyone to enter the dining room. Yolanda and Lorna stayed back to see Uma make a B line for Henry Pym.
Her children were playing on the floor a few feet from her. Shouldn't she have gathered her children first?
Again, Uma carried on like Henry was the only one in the universe. Wouldn't she do better by making a fuss over her children who had been tossed aside by their father? They were the most needy of attention. Come to think of it, was this why Uma dyed her hair red? To try to ignite Henry with some burning desire for her?
The handsome man looked back to the two young ladies. Yolanda nodded and said, that they would first put the satchel away and then join the group.
When she saw Uma reach for Henry's elbow to turn him towards the dining room, the calm young genius suddenly threw the satchel against the sofa. She turned to the younger female and snatched the note pad out of her hand. Yolanda threw a very hard, very perfect pitch that sent the pad streaking into the opening of the satchel.
When Yolanda finally acknowledged Lorna's presence, she found the brown haired girl wide-eyed.
"I'm sorry," Yolanda said faking a smile and a cool exterior. "But we shouldn't be so rude as to not come to the table when we are asked."
In a grip that was not as tight as Tabby had clenched during the meta fight, but still as determined, Lorna felt Yolanda's fingers circled around her right wrist like an iron handcuff.
The white-haired beauty pulled mightily and Lorna's feet were caught by surprise. The younger girl was about to verbally blast Yolanda for nearly making her fall. When Yolanda again apologize, Lorna's temper dampened a bit. Just a bit.
Lorna scolded in a low voice , "Whoa there, Frost-top. Don't make me start thinking that the Jan-witch isn't the only crazy bitch in this place."
In truth, Yolanda had no ear for Lorna's biting remark. Miss Vanko's entire being was channeled into her eyes as she saw Uma walking side-by-side with her Henry. Every three steps, or so, her body was getting closer to Yolanda's heartthrob. Pretty soon, if there was room for an atom to squeeze between them, it would have been a miracle.
OHHHH, NO! Sympathy and tears for the poor abandoned woman went so far. Yolanda was the rightful person next in line when Henry shows Janet Van Dyne the door. She will also be the LAST on that line. If this husbandless hussy thinks that she could cut in line in front of Yolanda…
Listen ... every person who was familiar with the circumstance knew that Jan was going to eventually get Henry upset enough so that he'll boot her rear out of the penthouse. But, much sooner, there was going to be another female here who was going to get a Russian-originated boot in the rear. That kick will be so strong that when she wakes up, her eyelids will be brushing against the dust of the moon's ground.