Cheers filled the room as Bruce slipped off stage, the young singer humming as he made his way to his room.

It was the golden age of hollywood, the advent of the talking picture. And Business was booming for both the actors and singers.

Bruce slipped into the room and sighed heavily as he prepared to leave for the after party. Sometimes being wealthy, handsome, and talented at singing was hard. The king of Jazz as they call him. Especially when he had to put up a facade.

He slipped on a golden watch before leaving to head to where the party would be, pulling his coat closer to him as it began to lightly snow. Despite the nuisance of the party. 1928 was right around the corner. Another year to hopefully find happiness. And another year to be the exact same version of himself.