Inside his “music studio,” Steve Rose eyed the papers in his hands carefully, reading each little detail while murmuring to himself. Calling it a music studio was being polite; he lived in a basement-floor apartment and had padded the walls himself after his neighbors complained about “bad, loud music.”

However, Steve wasn’t concerned about that right now. Weeks ago, the aspiring music star had shipped off demos to major Memphis entertainment companies. Of course, no one returned his outreach, but then he got a letter one day.

It was a letter from a man named Parker Meloche with the local Memphis wrestling organization.

“…matches not guaranteed… performance-based compensation… required to perform in front of thousands…”

Steve was intrigued.

“…one guaranteed musical performance before debut match…”

That was all he needed to see before he leaned forward and scribbled his name across the bottom of the page with a pen.

The former Nashville musician, now based in Memphis, smiled to himself. This was exactly the opportunity he needed; those morons in Nashville didn’t know anything about music.

He shook his blonde hair over his shoulders and picked up the guitar. However, as he went to strum with his guitar pick, he thought to himself.

No, don’t waste your energy on practicing. You got this.

Deciding he was beyond needing to prepare, Steve sat up and grabbed his leather jacket and headed for the door. He knew that some girl at the bar would love to be his groupie.

After all, he was now a professional musician and wrestler.