The Replacement War: A Rock Star Rom Com

by Lisa Suzanne

  But I just keep my mouth closed.

  She clears her throat, and I glance up at her. “He left me a note,” she says softly.

  My brows come together. “Who did?”

  “Tyler.”

  I nod, returning my gaze to my salad. I don’t really need to hear about the special note he left her. Not when I still care so much about her. About us. I wish I knew how to get past this, how to move forward with her...but I don’t. “Okay,” is all I say.

  “He confessed he wasn’t here to win. He just wanted a bigger platform for Capital Kingsmen to be seen on.”

  I heave out a breath, surprised that she just admitted that to me. I turn to look at her.

  That’s gotta hurt. It has to feel like a big, fat sucker punch after all they shared.

  “How does that make you feel?” I ask.

  She lifts a shoulder. “It’s separate from him and me.”

  “Is it?” I don’t want to push her buttons, but I don’t want her to ignore what he did, either.

  She nods and grabs a cucumber. She pops it into her mouth and chews thoughtfully for a beat before she gives me an answer I never saw coming. “He and I...we’re just friends.”

  My brows dart down. “I thought you were a couple.”

  She lifts a shoulder. “Yeah. That’s what we wanted you to think.”

  I blow out a breath. Her confession should hurt. It should sting. It should piss me the fuck off.

  But it does the exact opposite.

  It gives me hope.

  “But you slept in his arms...” I trail off before I can really form the question I want to ask—before I get myself into trouble again.

  “You saw that?” She looks confused. I nod, and she shakes her head. “I was upset, and he was trying to make me feel better. We both fell asleep. That was all.”

  “But you kissed him. In front of me.”

  She presses her lips together. “I shouldn’t have. It was wrong, and it wasn’t me, but I guess Los Angeles has turned me into someone I’m not. A new leaf or something.”

  I stare at her for a beat and realize that it isn’t Los Angeles at all that’s done these things to her. She wanted this chance, and she was willing to do what it took to get to the top.

  But now she’s there, and it’s just her and me.

  I’m not exactly innocent in all this, either.

  “Kat and me...” I trail off again, and she glances at me. I spot a bit of hope there in her eyes before she turns away. “Same deal. We were never really a thing.”

  “I can’t believe she was willing to help you. She was supposed to be neutral.”

  I lift a shoulder. “I think she wanted to cut off a real piece of the pie, if you know what I mean.”

  Lexi giggles, but she shakes her head with a tiny bit of mock disgust.

  “But I couldn’t do that,” I say softly.

  She raises a brow and meets my eyes again. “Why not?”

  I press my lips together. “Oh, Lex. I think you know why.”

  She presses her lips together and looks away before she nods. “Yeah. Same reason I couldn’t really get into anything with Tyler.”

  She takes her plate to the kitchen table, and Ben is standing next to her when I emerge from the food room. “We’d like you two to talk about the eliminated bassists while you eat, and if you have time, we’d love for you to discuss how you’d each fit in with the band.”

  We both nod, and it’s a welcome change of subject from the heavy conversation and confessions we left behind in the food room.

  It’s light, and we laugh, and it almost feels reminiscent of our time together in the hotel. But this time, we share a new bond, an experience that will tie us together in a new way because of this competition. Because of MFB.

  And regardless of what happens when the band chooses a winner, I know I won’t be ready to say goodbye to her.

  CHAPTER 46: GAGE

  “I’m going to let our manager and my wife, Kylie, tell you about your final competition,” Dax says the next morning.

  Kylie elbows Dax before she addresses the two of us. “Lexi and Gage, I’m thrilled you’re the final two in this competition. Congratulations.” She smiles warmly.

  “I’m here today because MFB has been on hiatus for the last couple months,” she says, “but I booked a special private performance tonight at our old stomping ground, a bar in San Diego called Emerson’s. It’s where MFB got their start and developed a local following that has turned into a huge sensation.”

  She pauses, and she looks back and forth between us. “For the final challenge, each of you will play four songs from MFB’s setlist. I will give them to you in advance so you have a few hours to practice, and then you’ll take the stage tonight. Obviously you’ll be filmed so these guys can watch your performance back, and I will be in the crowd along with our former bassist and the wives and fiancées of the men up here. We’ve also invited several industry professionals and musicians to watch and give us their feedback before we choose the final winner.”

  I can’t help but wonder which other industry professionals will be there.

  “It’s a two-hour drive,” Kylie continues, “and we’ve secured a tour bus to drive you down so you have space to practice without wasting time in the car. You’ll be leaving at three o’clock, and you’ll arrive at the bar a couple hours ahead of the performance to prepare. Any questions?”

  She glances between Lexi and me, and we’re both silent.

  She smiles and nods. “Good luck to you both, and I will see you tonight at Emerson’s.”

  My chest tightens.

  I’m actually going to perform on stage with MFB.

  I did it once before, but Lexi was there, too. It was a combined effort, a prize for both of us.

  This will be different.

  This time, I’ll be watching from the side of the stage while Lexi plays with them, and then she’ll take a seat while I play.

  I blow out a breath.

  I can do this.

  I wouldn’t say I’m nervous—not to get up and share the stage with MFB, anyway. I’m excited about that even though this is by far the most important performance of my entire musical career.

  But I do feel a sense of anxiety over being done with the challenges and the competition as a whole. I’m anxious about how I’ll feel when I’m not sharing a house with Lexi and I don’t get to see her every day.

  I’m anxious about what comes next.

  I get my four songs. I’m familiar with all four, but I make myself a playlist anyway and slip in my earbuds. I grab my bass and head out to the patio to listen and study the basslines.

  And then I get to work.

  I don’t plug in, but I play along with each song, committing the bass notes to memory as I listen and play. I play again and again for the muscle memory. I read the music on the sheets Kylie gave us as I listen and practice, and by the time lunch rolls around, I’m confident I’m ready.

  Lexi’s in the food room when I head in to grab my lunch. “You ready?” she asks.

  I nod. “Yeah. You?”

  She lifts a shoulder. “Yeah.” She looks like she’s wrestling with more words, but she doesn’t voice them.

  She takes her plate out to the kitchen, and there’s a certain feeling in the air that even if we were on good terms, we’d still be battling it out in this final round. We just might be doing it from a different perspective.

  I join her at the table. “What four songs did you get?” I ask.

  She ticks them off on her fingers as she names them. “‘No Room for Regrets,’ ‘Love out of Nowhere,’ ‘In Due Time,’ and ‘Temporary.’”

  I think through those four songs, and “No Room for Regrets” is the title track off two albums ago. It’s fast-paced and a song they’ve been known to open shows with. “If I had to guess, I’d bet you’re going first,” I say.

  “Why?” Her brows draw together. “What did you get?”

  “‘What Did We Just
Do,’ ‘Never Goodbye,’ ‘War Zone,’ and ‘Won’t Go.’”

  She nods. “Yep, I’m probably first, though they’ve done ‘War Zone’ as an opener a few times.”

  “How does that make you feel?” I ask.

  She chuckles. “I feel like I’m in a confessional.”

  I laugh. “Right? So tell me, Lexi,” I say, mimicking Ben’s voice, “how does that make you feel?”

  She sighs, and her merriment shifts to a more serious expression. “It makes me feel scared. Not to go first, but to go into the finals against you.”

  I glance up from my plate and catch her eye. “Feeling’s mutual.”

  Her brows dip down like she doesn’t really believe me.

  “You’re so goddamn talented and you don’t even know it,” I mutter. “You wouldn’t be sitting here in the final two if you didn’t deserve to be.”

  “Only because Tyler confessed the truth about why he was here,” she says, and it’s rare to see her with this level of doubt in herself.

  “I don’t think that’s true. But do you think he could’ve taken the whole thing?” I muse.

  She lifts a shoulder. “Probably not over you.”

  I don’t know if I want to win if it means I have to beat her.

  I head up to my room to pack after lunch. Either way I look at it, I’ll be heading out of this house soon. I wonder if we’ll know the results as soon as tonight or if they’re going to make us wait.

  I wonder a lot of things, actually, but I’ll learn the answers in due time.

  We board a tour bus to head toward San Diego. I’ve never actually been on one, and I try to revel in every little detail, from the office in the back where I could see myself writing new music, to the couches and recliners up front where I could see us watching movies and playing video games, to the little kitchen table where I could see band meetings and poker games, to the tiny bunks where I could see myself...with Lexi on top of me?

  I shake that image out of my head.

  It can’t work. We’re competing for the same spot, so we won’t end up playing together.

  I don’t touch my bass, while she practices the entire two hour drive...which is just as well since trying to have a conversation is so hard it’s nearly painful.

  When we get to the bar, we’re given the dime tour and a free drink before we head back to the storage room to practice some more. It’s just the two of us along with the assistant producers, so Kat, Camille, Miles, and Ben are close by. Ben pulls Lexi out to a booth in the bar to interview her, and then Kat pulls me aside to do the same. We eat dinner with the four of them, who carry the conversation while Lexi and I avoid looking at each other.

  A crew of roadies comes through and tests the instruments. My bass guitar sits on a stand beside Lexi’s on the stage, and we both know it’s getting close to show time.

  And then, a little before eight, the MFB guys walk into the back room. They seem pumped and ready for the performance, and it immediately makes me feel pumped and ready, too, like I’m feeding off their energy.

  “Lexi, you’re up first. We’ll play our first four songs, and then it’ll be a quick transition into the last four, so I need you both ready to make the switch,” Dax says. “Camille and Kylie will be on hand to help.”

  We both nod in understanding, and he glances at his watch. “We’re on in four minutes. The four of us are ready to go, but if either of you have any pre-show rituals, now’s your time.”

  I’m not sure what Lexi does, but I head to the men’s room to splash a little water on my face, take a deep breath, and give myself a little mental pep talk as I stare at myself in the mirror.

  And then it’s go time.

  CHAPTER 47: LEXI

  Once my eyes adjust to the lights shining at us, I look out over the crowd.

  That’s probably my first mistake.

  I see all the people Kylie said I’d see along with many others I don’t know.

  The place is jam-packed.

  Clearly MFB is a band that’s very loved, and the people watching me play up on this stage with the men they love so well are judging me. They’re deciding whether I’m the right fit to replace a guy they probably didn’t want to see leave.

  And honestly...I don’t know if I’m the right fit.

  I still want this. I’d still like to try.

  But Gage fits in a way I never will. And it’s not just down to gender. It has more to do with the fact that his background is in heavy metal, and MFB is a rock band. I’m probably better suited for country music since that’s where my roots fall.

  As my eyes land on different experts of the music community—Maci Dane, Mark Ashton, Ethan Fuller, Kane Keller, Ruby Ray—I make a mistake on the verse of the first song. I recover cleanly, and the average listener might not have even noticed...but this is a room full of people who are trained to hear those types of errors. They’re looking for them.

  And that’s a mark off on me.

  I chime in on the chorus to provide back-up vocals since I have the voice God gave me. I focus on the music, on the stage, on my bass guitar, and not on the crowd. I pretend like I’m jamming in a room with my best friends instead of being judged on the scariest stage of my life.

  And when it’s all said and done, that one slip-up was my most egregious error. I think I can live with that.

  We make a smooth transition and Gage rumbles in like he owns the place.

  Watching him from the side of the stage is my second mistake.

  Not just because I think he’ll win—and I do think he’ll win—but because this may be the last time I get to watch him play from this vantage point. This may be the last time we get to be in a room together before one of us explodes into popularity and leaves the other behind in the dust.

  And watching him right now, I just have this sinking feeling I’m the one who’s going to be left behind, shielding my eyes from the dust cloud in his wake.

  The crowd goes crazy at the end of the performance, and Dax waves me over at the same time Kylie pushes me onto the stage to take the final bow with the band. I hurry over to the end, which happens to be right beside Gage, and he grabs my hand.

  My heart stutters in my chest.

  A nervous energy grips me, and it has nothing to do with the adoring crowd as they scream and cheer for our performance.

  We all smile as we take a bow together, and that’s the end.

  Now we wait.

  When we get back to the storage room, Dax grabs me in a hug. “You were amazing,” he says. Brody hugs Gage then me, and Adam and Rascal give me hugs as well as they all tell me what a great job I did.

  I try to listen to what they’re saying to Gage, but I’m lost in my own celebration. Whiskey shots are issued, and I drink mine down like I can handle it...and I almost can. It’s almost becoming something I’m getting used to.

  Almost.

  And once the celebration and excitement start to wane, it’s time to head home.

  “Your bus is waiting,” Dax tells Gage and me. “We’ll need some time to review the footage, discuss, and talk to our peers out there, but we’re as anxious as you are to announce the winner.”

  Kylie takes over from there. “We plan to announce the winner when we film the finale, and the assistant producers will fill you in on more details on your bus ride back to Los Angeles.”

  “Thank you both for an extraordinary competition,” Brody says, and Adam and Rascal echo similar sentiments.

  Dax nods. “You two proved you deserve to be here, and we have a very difficult decision ahead of us.”

  They bid us goodnight and head out of the back room toward the bar, and then Camille ushers us to our bus, where she directs us to sit in the two recliners opposite the couch.

  The four assistant producers sit across from us, almost like a firing squad.

  “We have a lot of business to discuss,” Camille says, and I’m a little disappointed since honestly I was hoping to have an open conversation with Gage on the w
ay back to LA. They sat in the office the entire ride down here, but they’re out here with us on the ride back.

  “Due to scheduling conflicts,” she begins, “we’re going to film the finale in three days. Our show will begin airing next month, and it’s a six-episode arc, so you’ll only need to honor the nondisclosure agreement until the finale airs. We’d prefer for you to stay here in Los Angeles just to minimize any issues with traveling from now until the finale airs since you are the final two.”

  I suppose I should’ve expected that, but I didn’t really think it through. My initial contract mentioned something about it, but I guess I didn’t really think I’d make it as far as I did.

  “You’re expected to stay in the house until the day after we film the finale,” she continues, “and after that, you’ll get your phones back and you’re free to return to life as normal here in LA. You can find a place on your own dime, or Ashmark has offered to put you up in a hotel until you can find suitable living arrangements. Regardless of who wins, you’ll both be called into Ashmark to meet with executives the day after we film the finale to make those arrangements. One of you will also have a brand-new contract to sign.”

  I glance over at Gage as I think about that text I sent him. Friday night at eight, the first weekend in September, at our hotel lobby bar. That’ll be our second chance.

  He doesn’t return my gaze, but that doesn’t change the facts.

  We’ll both still be in Los Angeles the first weekend of September if we’re supposed to remain in the area through the time when the show airs.

  But after everything we’ve been through...I don’t know if I’ll have the guts to actually show up.

  CHAPTER 48: DAX

  “So it’s unanimous,” I say after a long deliberation.

  We’ve watched the performance at least twenty times now. We’ve compared notes. We’ve talked through the other comps. We interviewed the people who came to watch the final challenge.

  We got the final approval from our record label.

  It’s late now, but fuck it.