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

20. The Sharpest Lives

"If it looks like I'm laughing

I'm really just asking to leave this alone

You're in time for the show

You're the one that I need

I'm the one that you loathe

You can watch me corrode

Like a beast in repose

'Cause I love all the poison away with the boys in the band"

-My Chemical Romance

Maggie

The festival was already crowded when they got there later the next day, packed with people everywhere they turned. "Ever since they lowered ticket prices, the crowds have been so much worse," Eden complained, narrowly missing being plowed over by a rowdy frat boy that had obviously been pregaming before the shows.

"I think it's great," Maggie smiled, soaking in the excitement like a sponge. "It's nice that more people are able to experience this," she threw her arms open, almost hitting Henry in the process.

Eden's fiancé, Max, laughed. "I have to say, Maggie, ever since I saw that news story about the music scene in Atlanta, I've been fascinated by the logistics and behind the scenes work that goes into a festival like this. I never thought about how much time and effort it takes to plan these things, not to mention money." He turned to his brother, struck with a new idea. "Henry! Maybe we should buy a small venue, start a side business. Doesn't that sound like a great investment?"

With a roll of his eyes at Maggie, Henry smiled indulgently at his brother. "I'm afraid that would be too much work for the likes of us, Max. Besides, we don't need any more venues around here; there's no shortage of shows to choose from. Unless you wanted to get really crazy with it and brave the heat of the south. I don't know if your delicate constitution could handle the humidity. What do you think, Mags?"

Something across the field had caught her eye. "Yeah, it gets pretty humid," she said distractedly, before wandering away.

Henry looked after her retreating figure with irritation, wondering what could have caught her attention so suddenly. Eden patted his arm consolingly. "You know how she is, Henry. Don't worry, she'll come around." They lost sight of her in the crowd.

The familiar glimpse of a tall, dark head was all it took for Maggie to take off. She knew she was being ridiculous but couldn't shake the feeling that she recognized the tilt of his head, the way he carried himself. As she drew closer she could hear the deep tones of his voice, which carried easily through the din of the crowd.

John stood surrounded by reporters and other businessmen. "It's all well and good to reap the benefits of the industry," he gestured around to the huge crowd of excited festival folk. "But it took months of hard work to get here. Most people don't know the effort that goes into putting on these shows, keeping the music scene alive. We all love music and the experience, but for some reason, we're always at odds with the workers and the fans." He shrugged. "We've come so far, yet things never really change." His smooth southern accent washed over her, a sharp contrast compared to the harsher northern voices she was already growing tired of during her short visit.

She saw him startle a bit when he noticed her, though he tried to hide it. His eyes burned through her, daring her to contradict him.

"That's not what I think at all. John would know that if he pulled his head out of his ass and paid attention for once." Everyone in the small crowd looked uncomfortable as Maggie stalked away. John's long legs caught up with her quickly; he grabbed her arm and turned her towards him.