As TJ listened to the crowd’s cheering, he bowed his head and closed his eyes. His manager rounded the corner and was about to shout, “Hey, let’s get moving,” but instead, he stopped in his tracks, knowing well to not interrupt when TJ’s doing his pre-show ritual.
Five years ago, TJ was on the street playing his guitar, earning change from passerby. His manager discovered his talent, changed his entire look, and gave him an identity. There was only one requirement, TJ cannot sing his own music.
Now, TJ must go on stage in his jean-jacket, bandanna, and sunglasses and rap.
This story is written for 100 Word Wednesday.