Saturday's Storyteller: "Nice cockroach earrings."

by Belinda Roddie

"Nice cockroach earrings."

"They're not cockroaches," Ivy scowled. "They're scarabs. Can't you tell the difference?"

The man shrugged with a slight chuckle and returned to his friends at the bar, and Ivy resisted the urge to throw her beer at him. However, because the pint had cost a good four dollars, she knew it was better to drink it than waste it. Still, though, it was like no one cared about history anymore, let alone interesting Egyptian history. Did no one get the significance of golden scarabs anymore?

She was about to leave a dollar tip at the bar when "What Do You Want From Me?" rattled on the speakers. Ivy was intrigued. It wasn't typical for bars to play prog rock, but she was a big Floyd fan and she certainly wasn't complaining. As she turned her head toward the sound, she spotted a young woman sitting in the corner alone, drinking a cider and playing with her silver watch as she seemed to sing to the words.

"As you look around this room tonight..."

Ivy suddenly forgot about the leering, ignorant bloke who had attempted to woo her by identifying her jewelry as the wrong invertebrate, focusing more on the dame as she continued to sing under her breath. Ivy could not help smiling. She shoved a stray lock of short brown hair away from her face and began to sing as well, hoping that the woman would notice. She did.

They sang together for some time, quietly so as not to disturb the other patrons. When Gilmour's voice faded away, they both hummed the melody of the guitar solos. Ivy couldn't take it anymore and scooted to a closer stool, just as the tune came to an end and the usual typical top 40 blunder stomped into the bar.

"Hey."

"Pink Floyd fan?" asked the woman. Ivy grinned.

"Have been since I was a child." She pointed at the prism patch on her jean jacket. "Dark Side of the Moon is my favorite album, even though it's cliché."

"I'm a Wish You Were Here fan myself."

"But Division Bell isn't bad, huh?" asked Ivy. "I always find fans give it a bad rap. I think it's got quality music."

"My assistant manager actually heard that album first, so it's always been his favorite," the woman replied, downing a large quantity of cider after her announcement and twiddling with her watch again.

"Oh, nice. Where do you work?"

"Local bookstore. It's still alive and kicking." The woman raised her now half-empty glass to Ivy. "To the Floyd."

Giggling, Ivy lifted her pint in response. The gaggle of men had wandered off, leaving the two alone at the bar. The woman gave Ivy a lopsided smile and pushed dyed blonde hair from her face with the palm of her hand.

"I'm Lorraine, just so we get on a first name basis," she said. Then her eyes lit up when she looked at Ivy's left ear lobe. "Killer scarab earrings, by the way."

This week's prompt was provided by Daniel Bulone.