Formal Wear and ESP

Inside the glittering museum gala, Lila Tinker fidgeted with her floor-length blue ballgown. Thanks to her work as a receptionist at an art gallery, she’d snagged an invite to the social event of the year, and she hoped it would add some excitement to her life. No date, but she had a killer dress from one of those rent-a-gown places.

The dress covered up the scars from the accident, for which she was grateful. Snagging a cocktail that smelled like the tropics, she wandered out into the well-dressed crowd, ready to mingle—and to find some faces and people and emotions to sketch,

A young couple walked past, both chattering about the babysitter and having their first evening out together in months. The woman in a simple black sheath dress glanced around with that alert-mom gaze. Smiling at Lila, she said. “Quite an evening!”

[I better not get another text from the babysitter. Damn it, I deserve to relax! That’s the sixth one. Max is fine.]

Lila blinked, unsure of what she heard. Even though the young mother had said it in a loud, commanding voice. “I’m sorry, what did you say?”

The young mother gave her a questioning look. Her husband or partner smiled and said, “It’s hard to have a conversation with all this noise.”

Relaxing, the young mother said, “I said, it’s quite an evening.”

“Oh yes.”

Lila was about to make more conversation when she heard:

[He says this is loud? He has no problem tuning out Max crying in the middle of the night, sleeping like a baby while I’m up walking the floor. Loud? Give me a break.]

Lila gaped at her, then looked at the husband, who studied a modern art sculpture—a melting ice cream bar. He didn’t seem to hear his wife’s hostile words.

“It is noisy in here,” she said. “The turnout is huge. I hear it smashed records. Enjoy the evening, you two.”

She had goosebumps, and she just wanted to run away. Whatever she was hearing, she had the sense of reading someone’s diary!

As she strolled over to meet up with her work colleagues, a well-dressed old couple passed by her, the silver-haired husband striding ahead of his wife.

[You know I had my knee replaced last year. Why do you always have to walk ahead?]

Shocked, Lila dropped her phone, and it landed on the marble floor, right at the feet of the older woman, who nearly stepped on it. The lady stopped and picked it up. Lila walked over and smiled. “Hi. That’s mine. Thank you.”

The attractive lady handed it to her with a smile. “I have one just like it. I love it.”

Lila smiled.

[Of course, I’m not like you spoiled kids, I take care of mine]

There it was again. She must be hearing things. Had the woman really said that?

“Are you okay, dear?” the woman asked.

She was hearing things, but otherwise fine.

“Oh yes. It’s just such a fantastic evening. Have you been to this gala before?” she asked.

A handsome man in a white tuxedo and a blinding smile walked past Lila, giving her a once-over from the most electric blue eyes she’d ever seen.

“We love it,” the older woman replied, drawing Lila’s attention. “It’s the best museum we’ve been to. Right, Hank?”

Her husband walked back to them. “Finest collection of American art I’ve ever seen.”

[What is it with this modern art crap? A melting ice cream bar? I’m going to stop donating.]

The older woman reached out and touched Lila’s shoulder. “You don’t look well, dear.”

“I probably need something to eat,” Lila mumbled, already turning to go. “I could eat that ice cream bar sculpture, which I agree with you isn’t art. Nice meeting you.”

She escaped, putting a wall full of abstract paintings full of colored lines and newspaper cuttings between her and the wealthy donors. The handsome man in the white tuxedo walked on a parallel course with her.

[Who’s it going to be?]

She didn’t know how she knew the man in the white tuxedo said it, but she followed him, stopping to study the artwork and watch him without being too obvious.

“Do I know you?”

He stood beside her, smelling of Davidoff’s Cool Water and something else she couldn’t identify. Sharp, salty. Maybe the caviar or the ahi tuna in lettuce leaf boats?

“I don’t think so,” she said.

“You looked at me like we knew each other somehow.” He smiled charmingly.

Lila hid her blushes.

[Who’s it going to be?]

“You’re right. I thought you were someone else. Sorry.”

“It happens to me all the time.”

He smiled. She smiled back.

“I thought you might be an artist.”

“I dabble,” he said easily. “What about you?”

“I work at one of the galleries sponsoring this event, the Wrightwood Gallery.”

Across the room, the young couple got a phone call, and the panicked looks on their faces suggested their evening might be over. With the haste of new parents, they headed out of the party.

[You’re lucky. You don’t die tonight.]

Lila couldn’t take her eyes off the man with the sexy voice and the ugly words, who was staring after the young couple. “Seriously?”

He reacted, insulted. “You don’t think I could be an artist?”

“You could be something, I’m not sure what,” she said foolishly.

His eyes reminded her of one of the devils in a medieval religious painting. “You’ve got some fire in you. I like fire.”

“Well, nice talking to you.”

He intended to kill somebody tonight. Where was the security guard? She spun around and walked off, scanning the crowd for a uniform and a badge.

[I’ll lure you into one of the areas that’s closed to the public. No one has to know. I’ll put you someplace they won’t find you immediately. You’ll look like a work of art.]

Hank and his wife headed toward her, the woman looking as fierce as her thoughts. Somehow, they suspected something, sensed something.

Lila ran toward them and whispered urgently to the wife, “I know that you just had a knee operation. You’re right. I should treat my phone better.”

The older lady gasped. “How could you—”

Lila clung to the woman’s green silk dress. “Please.” She jerked her head at the jogger. “He’s planning to kill me.”

Hank murmured to his wife, “Did you tell her you had your knee replaced, Betty?”

“No!” 

Both of them fixed Lila with inquisitive stares.

“It must be because of my accident,” she muttered. “I heard…I heard that man’s voice in my head. He wants to kill me. I can’t prove it, though.”

Hank looked fierce. “Well, we believe you.”

With the wisdom of age, Hank and Betty kept Lila away from her would-be attacker. And for the first time all evening, she smiled when she heard Betty’s voice in her head. 

Knee replacement or not, if he touches you, I’ll make him sorry.]