The Replacement War: A Rock Star Rom Com

by Lisa Suzanne

  She’s beautiful when she’s asleep. Awake, too, but here I can stare at her without her ducking subconsciously away under my scrutinizing gaze.

  She has no idea how beautiful she is.

  Dark locks fan out on the pillow, and I memorize what she looks like.

  I’ll need it in the upcoming days. I’m sure I’ll be lonely in the house with ten guys competing for this spot, and remembering her in this way will be one of those sweet secrets that’ll help get me through the lonely nights.

  I press my lips to her cheek, memorizing the cool, porcelain skin. Her eyes flutter open, and I memorize the exact chocolate shade there.

  “Good morning,” she says softly.

  I nod, emotion clogging my throat.

  What the fuck?

  This isn’t me. It never has been, and it never will be.

  I clear it out.

  “Morning,” I say. “I, uh, need to get going.” I force the regret out of my tone. I don’t know how to say what I’m feeling, and it doesn’t matter anyway.

  “Oh,” she says, and then she glances at the clock. “Oh! I do, too!” She sits up and tosses the sheet off. “I can’t believe we slept so late.”

  “I’m sorry.” I get up and start moving around the room, packing my clothes and grabbing clean ones out of my bag. I can’t forget my bass, which has been hiding in the closet the past few days. If it was out, she’d surely have questions.

  “Don’t be,” she says. “My fault, too. I, uh...”

  She falters, and I pause in my rush to get out the door. I stop and turn toward her.

  Our eyes meet for a few quiet beats, and my chest pulses with anguish and regret and...love?

  “I know,” I say softly, and it’s at that moment that I brace myself for the abandonment that’s about to hit me once again.

  She presses her lips together and nods.

  I move toward her and close the gap when I pull her into my arms. “It’s been a great few days.”

  “I wish we had more time,” she whispers.

  I nod to let her know I do, too. But we don’t. We’re out of time, which means whatever this is—whatever it was—has run its course.

  It feels cold and cruel to say that out loud, though, so I settle on, “In another lifetime, maybe.”

  One side of her mouth tips up, and she nods. “Yeah. Maybe.”

  “I’ll never forget you,” I say softly, and I lean my forehead to hers. I breathe her in one last time, memorizing her scent of coconuts and sunshine.

  “I won’t, either,” she whispers. I back up to look her in the eyes, and hers sparkle with unshed tears. “I wish things could be different.”

  I sigh. “I do, too.” We both know they can’t, though. I think I might love you.

  I can’t force the words out. They’re too hard, and they’ll leave us both with too many regrets. A tear splashes over onto her cheek.

  I thumb her tear away and drudge up every ounce of strength I have not to break down the way she’s starting to. “Maybe it’s destiny. And if it is, then sometime down the line when the time is right for both of us, we’ll find our way back.”

  She presses her lips together and nods. She kisses me one final time, and then she draws in a shaky breath and moves toward the door. “Thanks for the best weekend of my life, Motley Crue.”

  She opens it.

  “Thank you, too, Nashville,” I say, and she flashes me a sad smile before she walks out the door.

  It slams shut behind her the way hotel doors always seem to, and the sound echoes hollowly in my chest.

  CHAPTER 18: GAGE

  I find a note on the bathroom counter. It’s written on the hotel notepad, and the hotel pen sits beside it.

  Her handwriting is neat and a little whimsical...sort of like her.

  I draw in a deep breath as I read it.

  Gage,

  Thank you for the best few days of my life. I’ll never forget you, and I don’t ever want to. I know we said no numbers, but I’m leaving this here just in case. I don’t know why, but I can’t seem to leave without you having it. I’ll be tied up with some things for the next month or so, but maybe down the line if you’re still thinking about me, you can use it.

  Love,

  Lexi

  Her phone number is written along the bottom.

  I immediately dial it into my phone and save it. I go to type in her last name...when I realize that’s something we never exchanged.

  I don’t even know how to save her contact.

  Lexi Hot Sex? Sexy Lexi? Lexi with the nice legs? Lexi Fling? Lexi Hook-Up?

  I settle on Nashville.

  It’s the least offensive, I guess—which is something I never really cared about until I met her.

  I order breakfast from the restaurant downstairs so I can grab it on my way out, take a quick shower, and pack the rest of my shit.

  Then I sling my bass over my shoulder, shove Lexi’s note in my pocket for good luck, and head out the door.

  I glance next door one last time. Her door is closed.

  Is she still in there?

  I love you.

  I whisper the words, and then I walk away.

  I fucking walk away, and it’s the hardest thing I think I’ve ever had to do even though what I’m walking toward will certainly be worth it.

  I pick up my food, which I plan to eat in the back of the car on the way to the house...but once I spot Tony and get into the car, I find I’m not really all that hungry.

  I slip the note out of my pocket and read it again.

  And then, just because the emotions clogging the back of my throat nearly force me to, I type out a text.

  Me: Thanks for the best weekend of my life. Neither of us is in a position to make this work right now, but there may come a time when we will be. I’ll hold our memories of this weekend close until that time comes.

  I text Auntie Jean, too, to let her know I love her, and then I power down my phone.

  I don’t want to know if Lexi replies. Either way, it’ll be too hard.

  I’m in the car now. I’m on my way toward my future.

  I need to focus on what’s coming.

  Besides, I have to turn in my phone to producers as soon as I step foot into the house anyway, so when—if—I get kicked out of the competition, I might have a treat waiting for me from her.

  We’re in the car about a half hour, and we’re driving along the oceanfront when Tony stops in front of a house.

  Well, technically it’s a house, I guess.

  It sits directly on the beach, and it’s a glass mansion. A monstrosity, really. It looks like there will be views from every room, and I wonder how many rooms this place actually is.

  Tony opens my door, and I stop staring at the place long enough to get out of the car.

  “Put this on,” he says, handing me a wireless microphone. I slide the cord under my shirt and attach it at the collar, and I slip the pack into my back pocket. “Head to the front door, and you’ll find producers inside who will give you more information.” He hands me my duffel bag, and I stand in place with my bass slung over my shoulder.

  I brush away the thoughts of the girl I just left behind.

  This is why.

  It was for a reason, and this is that reason.

  I draw in a fortifying breath and take a step toward the door.

  This is it.

  One of the producers opens the door before I even get a chance to ring the bell. “Welcome, Gage!” she says. “I’m Kat, one of the assistant producers. You’re the first to arrive!”

  She’s bubbly and overly excited, and she’d probably be hot if I wasn’t still a little heartbroken over leaving Lexi this morning. She’s got the type of body I typically go for, and she has dark hair that’s several inches shorter than Lexi’s. She has blue eyes, though, unlike the girl I can’t seem to get out of my head.

  “I am?” I ask dumbly, and as I look past her into the house, I see three people sitting around couc
hes in a luxurious family room that faces the beach along with a whole bunch of cameras set up everywhere. There’s also a guy with a camera on his shoulder standing beside Kat, and a huge boom mic sits on top of it to pick up anything our wireless microphones might miss.

  “First things first, Mr. Hoffman,” she says with a bright smile. “I’m going to need you to hand over your phone.”

  I smirk as I slide it out of my pocket and hand it over.

  “You’ll get this back at the close of your time on the show. Come on in,” she says, and I follow her down the hallway and into the family room. I can’t help but stare out at the view. The beach is directly outside the window, water lapping at the shore.

  This sure ain’t Vegas.

  I refocus my attention on the people in the room, and I take a quick stock of my surroundings, too. Couches and recliners are arranged in a way that promotes conversation, and they’re pointed toward a fireplace with a piano beside it. This is clearly the room where we’re meant to hang out and get to know the other contestants...but that’s just it. I don’t want to get to know them unless they’re members of MFB.

  I’m not here to make friends. I’m here to win.

  And as that thought crosses my mind, I realize that will be my motto going forward.

  “This is Miles, Ben, and Camille.” She points them out, they all wave, and I’ll never remember any of that—except Ben, who interviewed me at Ashmark. “All assistant producers, all assigned to different contestants. I’m in charge of you and one other contestant. Every hour today, someone new will come in. Since you’re first, you get first pick of the bedrooms and you can explore the house, but first I want to talk to you about interviews and confessionals.”

  She’s all bubbly and excited and I’m nervous as fuck as I try to let go of what happened this morning.

  Lexi is still on my mind.

  It’s fresh, and I get that...but I can’t fathom a day ahead when she won’t be on my mind.

  “So a confessional is a spur-of-the-moment kind of thing, like say you got into it with another contestant, then we’ll want to pull you in and talk about what just happened while it’s still fresh. I’ll be here most days and I’ll likely be the one to pull you aside for those, and most of the footage we’ll use for your thoughts will come from those and our private interviews. We have a bunch of rooms set up for those, like that one there.” She points to a door just off the family room.

  “I’ll hammer you with hundreds of questions pretty much every day, and I’ll basically have you retell everything that happened in the period since we last spoke. Any questions so far?”

  I feel a little overwhelmed with it. I shake my head.

  She glances down at a clipboard on the table, and I follow her eyes and read the points of discussion they’ve clearly outlined as the most important talking points as each bassist arrives.

  Confessionals and Interviews

  Food Orders

  Sleeping Arrangements

  Use of House

  Competitions

  Contestants

  “Okay, so next on the list is food.” She walks over to the kitchen, which is attached to this big, open family room. A table big enough for twelve sits in front of more picture windows, stools are set up at a long bar that faces the cooking area, and there are two refrigerators. She walks past all that and into a second room that has two more refrigerators along with a counter and cabinets. “This is the food room. You’ll make your food selections on these sheets of paper,” she says, holding one up, “and we’ll be sure the food is stocked the next day. Most of the time your dinners will be prepared for you. Any other snacks or food you require will be up to you, but all you have to do is ask.”

  She nods toward a row of cabinets. “All the liquor is up there, and this fridge is stocked with beer and other goodies.” She taps the front of it, and then we leave the food room and head toward the stairs. “As for sleeping, you get your pick of bedrooms, so grab your bag and choose whichever you want. There are only six bedrooms and ten contestants, so several of you will have to share. Since you’re here first, you get to decide if you want to share or if you want your own space.”

  That seems like a no-brainer. Let’s see...share with a stranger who’s potentially a snorer or a talker or an asshole—or I could have my own room?

  “I’d love my own space,” I say, really the first words I’ve spoken since I walked into this house. Kat has been so busy babbling on about everything I’m never going to remember that I haven’t had a chance to get a word in.

  “Have at it. Meet me back in the family room in a few minutes so we can go over the rest of my talking points. Oh, and just so you know, every room except the bathroom has cameras that will capture your every move. I feel it’s important to let you know, and that includes bedrooms.”

  “Thanks,” I murmur, and then I head up the stairs.

  I turn right, look into a couple rooms, and choose the first one I find that has one single king bed and an attached bathroom. I have no idea if the others have large beds or en-suite bathrooms, but I grab this one without any fucks to give if someone else wants it.

  Why? My motto rushes through my mind again.

  Because I’m not here to make friends.

  I meet Kat back downstairs, and a hush falls over the producers when I walk back into the room.

  “He’s back,” she says with a bright smile. “Next up is the use of the house. We have a few computers and printers you’re welcome to use if you feel the need to type or write lyrics or whatever, but they are not connected to the internet. There’s a bunch of random photos on there, though, if you need to look at something different for inspiration. You’ll find several televisions and radios, but your only access will be to music. Different music channels, different playlists, with hundreds of thousands of options.”

  “I love how that will allow our entire focus to be on music and this competition,” I say.

  Kat smiles, as do the other producers. “One more thing, Gage. Just be yourself. Don’t feel like you need to say that’s a great thing if you’re pissed you won’t be able to watch football or if you think it sucks we took your phone away.”

  I laugh. “I gotta be honest with you. I love football, but I’ll be okay.”

  All the producers laugh, and Kat continues. “You’re welcome to use the beach so long as you stay within the designated areas so all movement can be captured on camera, and you can go anywhere in the house you want, barring one locked room that is the producers’ office area. An intercom system is set up throughout the house and you’ll need to listen for instructions through that. We could be calling you for a confessional or for a challenge, or we could just be letting you know it’s time for dinner. Any questions?”

  I shake my head.

  “Okay, so the last thing I need to be fairly general about, but there are ten contestants from all over the US with varying degrees of talent and experience playing bass. There will be several competitions to test different aspects of both your musical ability and versatility as well as your personality and how you’ll mesh with the MFB boys. Do your best, fight for your spot, and know that you’re only here because someone thought you deserved to be.”

  The bell rings, and my heart hammers.

  The male producer who isn’t Ben stands, but hell if I remember his name. “That’s my first bassist,” he says, and he heads toward the door.

  I wonder who the new arrival is. I wonder if I’ve ever heard of him or if he’s just some random guy off the streets like me. I wonder what he looks like and whether he’ll be my competition for the ladies’ hearts on television or whether I’ll win them over with my charm.

  I’ll get to find out eventually...but apparently not right now.

  “It’s time for your first confessional,” Kat says, and she stands and ushers me over toward a door we skipped past earlier before I get a chance to meet the next contestant.

  CHAPTER 19: LEXI

  Unkno
wn Number: Thanks for the best weekend of my life. Neither of us is in a position to make this work right now, but there may come a time when we will be. I’ll hold our memories of this weekend close until that time comes.

  It’s waiting there for me when I get out of the shower.

  I took a long, hot shower where I allowed myself to just feel for a long time—and also where I let the scalding hot water run over my very sore body.

  I don’t know if I’ve ever been this sore, but I also don’t know if I’ve ever had a weekend of sex like I just had.

  I debate what to say back...if anything.

  I need to talk it out with someone because that’s just what I do...but the person I’d typically turn to for a chat is Danny. He’s out since he felt the need to keep me in Nashville by confessing his feelings before I jetted out the door.

  So I’m stuck with my thoughts.

  I feel suddenly very alone. More alone than I’ve ever felt, maybe. I don’t have anyone to talk about what just happened, and so I’m internalizing my feelings rather than finding an outlet for them.

  But it’s only going to get worse over the next month. It’s not like one of the guys I’m competing against will be chomping at the bit to discuss the fling I just had.

  I don’t even want to discuss it. For sure that’s something that’ll make headlines when the show airs, and I’m a little more private when it comes to my sex life.

  Okay, a lot more private. I may be twenty-five, but I still don’t want my parents to know I have sex. It’s just...gross.

  It takes me longer than usual to get ready. I want to look perfect when I meet the other contestants today. I wonder if there will be other women there or if I’ll be the only one. I wonder a lot of things, actually, but I’ll find out in a few hours. My ride is set to pick me up at four o’clock, and then I’ll be on my way to whatever fate has in store for me.

  In a typical situation like this, I’m sure I’d be wondering whether any of the male contestants involved would be attractive or whether I’d feel a spark there.

  But I won’t.

  Not when I’ll be grieving the loss of what happened this weekend as I embark on what’s surely the adventure of a lifetime.