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.

The people were interesting as well. Maggie wasn't super familiar with the bands playing tonight, but the group of people in front of her weren't what she would have expected from what she knew of the acts. There was a wide range of ages and races, old men with beards and young guys with dreads. Women in mom jeans and wannabe hipster teenyboppers. Everyone was laughing and mingling together while they waited for the main attraction, and more than a few people seemed sloppy drunk. A lot of people seemed to be friends- or at least friendly- with each other, even if they were with obviously different groups.

One person, in particular, stood out to Maggie. He was tall, tall enough that he could see over much of the crowd, even if he wasn't standing apart from everyone on the small step near the entrance. He was dressed more formally than much of the grungy crowd, in obviously expensive black jeans, a plain white t-shirt, and a grey linen button up with the sleeves rolled past his forearms.

His demeanor was just as dour as his outfit. Sharp eyes roved the room, his arms crossed and his mouth pressed into a straight line. Even with his obviously foul mood, he was strikingly handsome. Something about him exuded power and authority. As his eyes passed over the crowd, it seemed like he was watching everyone closely, looking for something or someone. He turned towards the back of the room, suddenly locking eyes with Maggie. He held her gaze for a few heart-stopping seconds, neither of them able to look away. Just then, the lights dimmed again and the crowd went wild, while the lead singer of the main attraction swaggered on to the stage.

Becca appeared beside Maggie, pulling her towards the stage. "Mr. Thornton said he'd watch the bar for me for a bit since this is my favorite band. I'll introduce y'all after, he's been looking forward to meeting you," Becca had told Maggie earlier that her boss, the owner of The Mill, was looking for a photographer to trial getting some pictures of the venue and bands. But Maggie wasn't thinking about that, she was scanning the crowd again for Mr. tall, dark, and handsome. Unfortunately, she had lost sight of him in the rush towards the stage.

John

For John, getting dressed was something that required very little thought. Since most of his clothing was in various shades of black and gray, everything matched. He had grabbed a shirt and pants on autopilot, not even thinking as he got dressed for the night. Summer is a busy time in the entertainment industry, and every night meant a different group of bands and artists gracing the stages of The Mill. Tonight was one of Becca's favorite bands- he made a mental note to make sure she was able to get away from the bar for a while so she could see part of their set. He'd made a special effort to book this band since Becca had assured him they would bring in a good crowd. She had a sense about those things, always with her fingers on the pulse of the ever-changing music scene of Atlanta. John himself was considered "out of touch", but that was a forgivable offense. No one could complain when John ran one of the most popular clubs in the city.

Looking around the room that night, he could tell Becca was correct again. The sold-out crowd was teeming with energy, excited for the headliner and pumped from the surprisingly talented opener band. He usually stood aside, watching for signs of trouble. Trouble, while rare, could ruin a business like his. People liked to feel safe, and he couldn't afford for his venue to have a reputation for disreputable characters. Nick did a good job weeding out the troublemakers at the door, but occasionally someone slipped through the cracks. So, John watched the crowd like a hawk, always alert to potential disruptions.

It was while he was occupied with this duty that he suddenly wished he had put more thought into his wardrobe choices. Of course, he saw many pretty- even beautiful- women in his line of work, but there was something about this one that felt different. The way she caught his eyes, she seemed to see right through him. He felt strangely dull and drab, when usually his minimalism made him feel powerful. Something about her stare made him feel warm, and when the house lights went down and he lost her in the crowd, he felt the familiar coldness come back. He shook his head to try and clear the fog, then walked to the bar that he knew Becca would have already abandoned in her excitement.

Maggie

In just 20 minutes Maggie was sweating so much she felt faint in the press of the crowd, jeans be damned, so she motioned to Becca that she was going to get some air and a drink. The back of the room was thankfully far less crowded since most people were packed towards the front, trying to get as close to the stage as possible. There were no less than 3 crowd surfers at any moment, and Maggie had already been kicked in the head twice. As she burst from the crowd she took a few gasping breaths of blissfully comparatively cool air. Of course anything would feel cool after the raging, sweat-filled inferno of the crowd. She wandered towards the bar, noticing that there was some kind of argument going on between two men nearby. She couldn't hear what they were saying over the band, but it seemed pretty heated. Shrugging it off, she turned her attention to the bartender.

Maggie barely had time to register that the bartender was, in fact, the same handsome stranger- Mr. Thornton, she assumed- before he was jumping over the bar and onto one of the men arguing. In the dim and flashing lights of the room, it was hard to keep track of who was hitting and who was winning. She watched, fascinated as the struggle continued, the men falling to the ground, until finally, Mr. Thornton stood up, giving the other man a kick in the ribs. Something snapped inside Maggie, and she rushed forward and grabbed Thornton by the arm.

"Stop!" She cried, yanking on his arm. He spun to face her, rage in his ice blue eyes and a gun in his hand.

Before she could even begin to panic at the sight of a gun in a crowded building, Mr. Thornton quickly released the magazine and unloaded the gun. He briefly glanced at Maggie, furrowing his brow for a moment, before looking behind her and barking "Put this in safe with the others." Maggie turned, just then noticing Becca had walked up behind her in the middle of the spectacle. She must have come to check on Maggie and the bar.

Becca took the gun from Mr. Thornton and gave Maggie a sheepish half-smile. "You might better go, for now, he'll be in a pissy mood the rest of night," she said, walking around the bar towards a door that said "staff only". Maggie only nodded, still stunned at what was happening, as Mr. Thornton hauled the man off the ground by his shirt. He was a good 6 inches shorter than Mr. Thornton and smaller overall. Mr. Thornton was able to easily lift and drag the half-beaten man out of the room and down the stone stairs, out of sight. Maggie took a shaky breath, looking around for another exit; she definitely didn't want to run into this beast of a man on her way out. She found a back set of stairs and rushed outside, running all the way to her car. She was in such a hurry that she didn't notice the sharp blue eyes watching her from the main doorway, making sure that no one bothered her during the quick trip to her car, or that no one approached as she sat in her car, trying to calm her racing heart before driving home.

John

Two men were arguing by the bar, fighting about a girl, of course. One of the men was someone John recognized, a guy with which he'd had problems with in the past, who was on his final warning before being banned from the club. John was watching them closely, so when their fight escalated and he saw the familiar movements of someone reaching for a weapon, he knew he had to act fast.

Up, over the bar, catch him off guard, say a silent prayer that the imbecile has the safety on, or better yet, didn't bring a loaded gun into a crowded club. He knew from experience that the last part was too much to ask for. He felt the anger working its way through his chest, with only a single thought as he struggled with the much smaller man- get the gun, get the gun. Luck was on his side, the man was more drunk than normal, and he was able to get him on the ground without too much of a struggle. As he stood up, looming over the rabble-rouser, the man on the ground gave him a half smirk. Something about the smug look on the man's face enraged John even more, so he gave him a swift kick in the ribs for good measure.

As his foot made contact with the man's side, John felt a hand grab his arm and an angry voice in his ear, crying "Stop!" He angrily turned and saw the last person he expected, the girl he'd noticed earlier. He also saw Becca standing behind her, and it clicked. They knew each other. Becca had said she was bringing a friend, a potential photographer. Shit. His mind was working it all out as he automatically disarmed the gun without even thinking. The tightness in his chest hadn't loosened, and he struggled to take a deep breath as he passed the gun to Becca, sounding angrier than he intended. Thankfully Becca was used to his temper and his tone, so she took it with no questions asked while he turned back to the man on the ground.

He was about as heavy as a sack of potatoes, and half as limp. John drug him by the shirt, through the door, and down the main stairs, with very little resistance. Before he tossed him on the ground outside, he stopped in front of Nick at the door.

"Take note of this guy's face, Nick. The ass-hat brought a gun and was stupid enough to try and wave it around. Don't ever let him in here again. If you see him even on the property, call the police." With that John dropped him, the man having recovered enough to land somewhat on his feet.

Nick eyed the guy up and down. "You got it, boss. Everything alright upstairs, then?" He asked as they watched the trouble maker scurry down the street.

Turning to glance back up the stairs, John sighed. "I suppose. The incident passed largely unnoticed, save for your sister and what I assume to be her friend." He had hoped to catch her on her way down the stairs, and potentially try to explain what happened.

"Mhm, I met her before the show, she sure is a looker, yeah?" Nick chuckled to see his boss out of sorts, since it was such a rare occurrence. John shook his head as if to clear it, before noticing movement on the emergency stairs to his left. Apparently, Nick noticed, as well. "I guess she found another way out," he said, gesturing. "Shouldn't you be getting back to it, boss?"

John nodded. "I should," he sighed, but didn't move to head back up the stairs. He suddenly felt dizzy, and leaned against the doorway for a moment, watching as the girl sprinted back to her car. He stayed there, watching as her car remained dark and immovable for some time, until finally she cranked it up and drove slowly away. He shook his head once more, nodded wordlessly to Nick, and headed back upstairs into the usual chaos.

I've also posted this on Wattpad, with some inspiration imagines to kind of set the scene/mood for those who haven't been to Atlanta or just want some extra info on the vibe. I'm kind of adding as I go, so I'll post photos as the inspiration hits, not necessarily just with updates.

Any way, (I guess you're not allowed to post links so it wont work) my username is riversonfire you can search on Wattpad and find it if y'all are interested.

Otherwise, disregard this message!