What We Trade Our Hearing For (a North and South Story)

1. Shake, Shake, Shake

"Forget yourself,

This room is hot but we can make it hotter with your help.

I'll dance with you.

We'll dance together until everybody's moving too."

-Bronze Radio Return

Maggie

Maggie can hear the bass thumping through the street as she approaches the address her new friend, Becca, had given her. The ramshackle building in front of her was almost completely black, oddly misshapen, seemingly impossible to tell the true size from the outside, with a small marquee and a neon sign proclaiming that this shack was indeed "The Mills" that Becca had told her about. Becca was a friend of a friend of a friend, Maggie's sole contact in this new and surprisingly foreign city to which she had decided to decamp. In the post-breakup fallout with her not-so-serious boyfriend, Henry, and with her mother's health continuously failing, Maggie thought a change of scenery was in order. What else can you do when your not-so-serious boyfriend decides you were far more serious all along, and suddenly tells you he has planned your entire life, kids and house and all? Maggie tried to trace back their relationship to the point where Henry could have gotten the impression that she wanted all that. Although she supposed, she did want all that at some point, just not with Henry. And maybe that's where she went wrong, maybe she wasn't as clear about her intentions throughout their relationship. But if that was the case, then Henry certainly wasn't clear about his intentions either. Who proposes these days when you haven't even discussed it with your intended victim?

The bass suddenly explodes into the street as a door is opened, pulling Maggie from her musings. "Maggie! There you are. I was wondering if you got lost or something, though I don't suppose this place is easy to miss with all the usual commotion." A small blonde came scurrying down a set of stairs that Maggie had not noticed while trying to take in the full conglomeration of the building in front of her. "I'm working the bar tonight, but managed to slip away for a minute. I was going to try to call you; there's no service in the Mills, though obviously, you managed just fine on your own! Come on, let's scootch back inside," Becca babbled on as she pulled Maggie towards a door situated under a trembling overhang. On further inspection, the entire building itself was shaking and looked ready to fall down at any second.

"Here, Maggie, this is my brother Nick," Becca gestured to the large man leaning against the doorway, presumably the bouncer for this fine establishment. He had a kind, round face, with several days' worth of stubble, and looked like he could definitely be intimidating if he needed to be. Nick smiled and opened the door for the girls. "Better get inside or you'll miss the headliner, Becks," he said, ushering them inside with the wave of a large hand.

As they walked up the cold stone stairs, the music stopped, and the sound of cheering and clapping poured down the staircase. "The opener band just finished, so I have to get back to the bar real quick while the next band sets up," Becca said as she led Maggie through a large doorway and towards the back of the room. While Becca served the mob of people wanting drinks, Maggie took the opportunity to check out her surroundings. The room was big, but felt somehow claustrophobic, and was very hot. She was already regretting the jeans she'd decided on for her first night out in her new city. She noticed Becca had on black shorts and wished she would have had the forethought to dress more comfortably. Since this was her first night out and had the potential to meet colleagues and clients, she had wanted to look at least semi-professional. But obviously, things were a bit more casual here than they were back home.

Her eyes moved across the room towards the stage on the opposite side. The wood floor was old and scuffed, and up on the high ceiling, the ductwork was suspended by winch straps, as you would see on a flatbed truck. There was what looked like a single air vent for the entire room, and what little air it moved was humid and heavy. The ceiling itself was old raw wood planks and beams, and there were support poles scattered about the room. The entire place looked like it was held together with duct tape, bubble gum, and a prayer.