The Replacement War: A Rock Star Rom Com Read online

  THE REPLACEMENT WAR

  © 2020 Lisa Suzanne

  All rights reserved. In accordance with the US Copyright Act of 1976, the scanning, uploading, and sharing of any part of this book without the permission of the publisher or author constitute unlawful piracy and theft of the author’s intellectual property. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the author, except where permitted by law and except for excerpts used in reviews. If you would like to use any words from this book other than for review purposes, prior written permission must be obtained from the publisher.

  Published in the United States of America by Books by LS, LLC.

  This book is a work of fiction. Any similarities to real people, living or dead, is purely coincidental. All characters and events in this work are figments of the author’s imagination.

  Cover Design: Najla Qamber Designs

  Photograph: Wander Aguiar

  Content Editing: It’s Your Story Content Editing

  Proofreading: Proofreading by Katie

  AUTHOR LINKS

  Newsletter

  Amazon

  Web

  Facebook

  Instagram

  Reader Group

  Goodreads

  Twitter

  Pinterest

  BOOKS BY LISA SUZANNE

  MY FAVORITE BAND STANDALONES

  TAKE MY HEART

  THE BENEFITS OF BAD DECISIONS

  WAKING UP MARRIED

  DRIVING ME CRAZY

  IT’S ONLY TEMPORARY

  A LITTLE LIKE DESTINY SERIES

  A LITTLE LIKE DESTINY (Book One)

  ONLY EVER YOU (Book Two)

  CLEAN BREAK (Book Three)

  THE UNBREAKABLE THREAD DUET

  THE POWER TO BREAK (Book One)

  THE POWER TO BREAK - AUDIOBOOK

  THE INVISIBLE THREAD (Book Two)

  THE INVISIBLE THREAD - AUDIOBOOK

  CLICK HERE FOR MORE

  DEDICATION

  To my three favorite rock stars.

  CONTENTS

  PROLOGUE: DAX

  CHAPTER 1: GAGE

  CHAPTER 2: LEXI

  CHAPTER 3: GAGE

  CHAPTER 4: LEXI

  CHAPTER 5: GAGE

  CHAPTER 6: LEXI

  CHAPTER 7: GAGE

  CHAPTER 8: GAGE

  CHAPTER 9: LEXI

  CHAPTER 10: GAGE

  CHAPTER 11: LEXI

  CHAPTER 12: GAGE

  CHAPTER 13: LEXI

  CHAPTER 14: GAGE

  CHAPTER 15: LEXI

  CHAPTER 16: LEXI

  CHAPTER 17: GAGE

  CHAPTER 18: GAGE

  CHAPTER 19: LEXI

  CHAPTER 20: LEXI

  CHAPTER 21: GAGE

  CHAPTER 22: LEXI

  CHAPTER 23: GAGE

  CHAPTER 24: LEXI

  CHAPTER 25: GAGE

  CHAPTER 26: LEXI

  CHAPTER 27: GAGE

  CHAPTER 28: LEXI

  CHAPTER 29: DAX

  CHAPTER 30: GAGE

  CHAPTER 31: LEXI

  CHAPTER 32: GAGE

  CHAPTER 33: LEXI

  CHAPTER 34: GAGE

  CHAPTER 35: LEXI

  CHAPTER 36: GAGE

  CHAPTER 37: GAGE

  CHAPTER 38: DAX

  CHAPTER 39: LEXI

  CHAPTER 40: GAGE

  CHAPTER 41: GAGE

  CHAPTER 42: LEXI

  CHAPTER 43: DAX

  CHAPTER 44: LEXI

  CHAPTER 45: GAGE

  CHAPTER 46: GAGE

  CHAPTER 47: LEXI

  CHAPTER 48: DAX

  CHAPTER 49: GAGE

  CHAPTER 50: LEXI

  CHAPTER 51: GAGE

  CHAPTER 52: LEXI

  CHAPTER 53: GAGE

  CHAPTER 54: LEXI

  CHAPTER 55: GAGE

  CHAPTER 56: LEXI

  CHAPTER 57: GAGE

  CHAPTER 58: LEXI

  CHAPTER 59: GAGE

  CHAPTER 60: LEXI

  CHAPTER 61: GAGE

  CHAPTER 62: LEXI

  EPILOGUE: GAGE

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  PROLOGUE: DAX

  “It’s weird sitting here without Kane.”

  Brody voices the thought that’s running through all our minds.

  We’ve sat around this same table for band meetings hundreds of times, and just about every one of them included five of us.

  But now there’s only four.

  It’s our first band meeting since our bassist left, an emergency one since we’re technically still on hiatus for another five months. But even though we’re on hiatus, there’s an important business matter at hand.

  We need a new bassist.

  This isn’t the ideal time to start our search. There were several pretty important reasons we took this break in the first place, one being the newborn sleeping upstairs.

  But when something as big as your bassist leaving happens while you’re on a break, you get your ass back to work pretty damn fast.

  “It feels like someone died,” Adam says, and we all nod or grunt in agreement.

  I chug down a few sips of Miller Lite.

  It does feel like we’re mourning some loss, and that’s because we are. But that’s part of being a band. There are highs, and there are lows, and we deal with it like the brothers we’ve become.

  Even when one of those brothers chooses to walk away.

  “I still don’t get why he left,” Brody mutters. “Why the fuck would you want to start from scratch again? Why would you just...” He pauses and shrugs. “Give up at the height of everything?”

  None of us get it, really, but as I think about the newborn upstairs again—someone who’s only been here on this earth for the last fourteen days yet who runs through my mind pretty much every second of every day—I realize that love in all its forms can make us do things other people might not understand.

  “He fell in love,” I say, and that’s pretty much the long and short of it. “Enough about why he left. We’ve got limited time and Rascal needs to get back to LA for a gig tonight. Do any of you have anybody that immediately springs to mind? Or will we need to reach out to people we know for ideas?”

  “Ethan mentioned he knows of a few guys,” Brody says, naming his future brother-in-law and the drummer of the multi-platinum sensation Vail. “I could get in touch with him and see who he recommends.”

  I nod. “Obviously anyone recommended by someone in Vail will be a contender. Anyone else?” I stand and grab another beer from the fridge.

  “Emily and I saw a cover band a few weeks ago and we both commented on how talented their bassist was,” Adam says. He twists in his chair to look at me. “Hey, grab me one, too.”

  I grab two cans and toss one to him on my way back to my chair. I crack open the cold one. “You have his contact info?”

  He shakes his head. “No, but it probably wouldn’t be hard to get it.”

  “Get on that. Anyone else?” I ask.

  “Maybe we could just get Kane back,” Brody suggests.

  Rascal chokes on a laugh. “Not likely, dude.” Of all of us, he’d know. He and Kane were both contracted to fill in temporarily while another of our record label’s bands searched for a permanent bassist and lead guitarist. Rascal is still playing with them through the end of September, and that’s where Kane is now permanently residing.

  “I figured it was a long shot,” Brody says.

  I nod. “Get me names by Monday and I’ll
get in touch with Mark.”

  We’re a big enough band now that we bypass the channels and go straight to the CEO at the top, the same guy who happens to be the lead singer of Vail, the co-producer of the reality show we developed together, and someone who has grown into a good friend of mine over the last couple years.

  To say he’s a busy guy is an understatement, but he cares about the success of every band signed to his label, and I already know he’ll want to be involved in the decision-making when it comes time to choose our new bassist.

  And we’re not small potatoes anymore. We top the charts. We sell out stadiums. We may be taking a short break from practice, touring, and recording, but we’re not going anywhere.

  We’re not going fucking anywhere.

  “Kylie’s already itching to get back to work, and she’ll be skyping next week with Keith to map out a late summer and fall tour next year. Is everyone still on board for that?”

  My question is met with various grunts and nods of agreement.

  “Of course she is,” Rascal says.

  I glare in his direction. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  He chuckles good naturedly. “She just had your kid two weeks ago and she’s already skyping Keith to plan a tour. Only Kylie.”

  I laugh, too. He has a point. As my wife and the mother of my child, Kylie’s obviously rooting for MFB. But as our band’s manager, she’s more than invested in our continued success.

  “Speaking of Kylie, she had an idea about filling our open spot,” I say.

  Rascal rolls his eyes. “Here we go again...”

  I glare at him again before I glance at Adam and Brody, who both look interested. “I already ran it by Mark, and he thinks it’s an incredible idea, too.”

  “What is it?” Brody asks.

  “A competition, filmed for Rock on the Road. We’ve already given people two seasons of our reality show, so why not a third that shows the process of finding someone to fill an open spot in MFB?”

  Brody’s eyes light up. His father—who he no longer speaks with—used to be involved in television entertainment, and I think it runs in his blood, too. But that’s about the only thing he shares with his dad. “What kind of competition?”

  “We’re in charge, so it can be whatever we want it to be. But Kylie’s pitch to Mark was basically that we’d gather ten of the best bassists we can find, put them in a house together where they’ll be filmed twenty-four-seven, and choose one of them to fill Kane’s spot.”

  “Who’s paying for that?” Adam asks.

  “Ashmark will pay for the house and food, and MFB will kick in some money to pay the contestants. We need to get this off the ground ASAP to fill this spot, so it’ll be a quick turnaround as long as everyone is on board.” I look at each guy in my band, and they’re all nodding. A dart of relief runs through me.

  Adam holds up his beer bottle in a toast. “Let’s do it.”

  I hold mine up, too, but I don’t say anything since it’s my proposal.

  “I’m in,” Brody says.

  Rascal nods. “As long as it doesn’t interfere with my schedule playing with Ruby, I’m down for it.”

  We touch our bottles together and chug.

  “Good. So when we’re off hiatus in December, I need you ready to play and record new music with our new bassist. I need you writing now. I need you practicing your shit and creating new sounds. We have a shitload of banked songs we’ve cut from other albums, but there’s a reason they were cut. I want a fresh, new sound that matches the new dynamic we’ll have and I want it to fucking blow everything we’ve ever recorded before out of the water.”

  I see the fire I’m lighting in these guys.

  We all share the same ambition to keep MFB at the top, but there’s a new underlying, unspoken reason we all want our next album to catapult to success.

  It’s our first one without Kane.

  And we need to prove that the four of us are just as strong—maybe even stronger—without him.

  None of us believe we could be stronger without any of the individuals making up My Favorite Band when we were jamming together for over a decade. But he fucking left us, and that hurts.

  And so we’re coming back with something to prove.

  Success, after all, is the best revenge.

  CHAPTER 1: GAGE

  I sing the back-up chords to “Don’t Go Away Mad” while I pluck the strings on my bass, thinking I sort of wish these women screaming in front of me would listen to the lyrics as Ray sings them.

  They’re in their sixties.

  I’m...not.

  And I do sort of wish they’d just go away rather than pretend like I’m actually going to take one of them into the break room so they could have their way with me.

  That pretty blonde in the back of the group with the tits coming out of her dress who, from a distance, looks a little closer to my age...maybe.

  But I’m not much of a cougar hunter.

  “Woohoo!” they yell and scream. “Vegas, baby!”

  What happens in Vegas, dear seniors, will most definitely follow you home.

  Just ask Janine, my aunt’s friend. She cougared up, somehow got a male dancer to join her back at her hotel room, then headed home with the herp.

  More information than I wanted from my aunt, but she thought it was hilarious.

  Besides, even though on stage I look like Nikki Sixx, I’m definitely not him, and in my normal, everyday life, I don’t really look all that much like him.

  I’m just an impersonator in a Motley Crue cover band who wishes these women were singing along to songs I wrote...not songs someone else wrote.

  I got tired of wearing a wig on stage, so I grew out my hair. On stage, I look the part of an eighties rocker in his prime, especially when I apply that black eyeliner my ex carefully showed me how to use.

  The women who show up at our gigs fucking love it. Each guy in this band plays his part and plays it well. From the audience, Mikey looks like the drummer of the band we love so much. Ray looks like the singer. Vince looks like the guitarist. I look like the bassist.

  But all we’ll ever be is a cover band.

  All we’ll ever do is jam to the old hits that we all love.

  All we’ll ever be is men playing dress up.

  But I don’t just love those songs. I’m inspired by them. They’ve prompted me to write my own shit, music I’d love to show the world someday...but I won’t.

  How can I when I’m just a run of the mill impersonator?

  I work a day job dealing blackjack. I pull my hair back out of my face and no one knows I’m the same guy who takes the stage six nights a week at the lounge upstairs with a capacity of a thousand guests.

  Between my hourly wage and tips, I make enough to split rent at a small apartment within walking distance to work. My roommate, Kelly, is a back-up dancer in the show that runs just before ours. We met in the break room when she first started, became fast friends, and started our nice deal as fuck friends once we moved in together.

  We’re just friends, though.

  Well, friends who fuck.

  She wants more.

  I don’t.

  There are a lot of different reasons why, but topping the list is the fact that I just don’t see myself staying in Vegas forever.

  She does.

  I don’t see myself imitating someone else for the rest of my life.

  She’s happy back-up dancing. She’s been a dancer her whole life, so she’s doing what she’s always wanted.

  I suppose I am, too...and yet I find myself wanting something else. Something more out of both my career and my life in general.

  I think I’m just stuck in a rut.

  But no matter how stuck in that rut I may find myself, fucking a cougar just isn’t on my bucket list.

  As soon as I step down from the stage and into the crowd, one of the older ladies who was standing up front the entire time practically knocks me over.

  “You look ju
st like Nikki!” she screams at me. She tosses her arms around me, which is probably a mistake since I’m covered in sweat after playing the fuck out of my bass for the last couple hours under the bright, hot as fuck lights.

  And even if she wasn’t three or four decades older than me, I’d still feel a little sad at her words. She doesn’t care about me.

  She didn’t comment on my musical talent.

  She didn’t comment on my good looks, not that I’d say there’s much to comment on there even if Kelly would wholeheartedly disagree.

  She said I look like Nikki.

  That’s all she cares about...a night with a rock star. She can pretend I’m someone else just like I pretend I’m someone else.

  Because in this equation, Gage Hoffman doesn’t matter. The outside looks enough like a famous bassist, and I play that famous bassist’s chords. That is what matters to this woman.

  “Thanks,” I say to her, because even though she knocked down the adrenaline that was coursing through me as I left the stage, my manners still win.

  She squeezes my ass, and I hate that she’s making me feel like a piece of meat. I give her a look that clearly says that was inappropriate, and she just smiles at me with a gleam in her eye.

  I note the ring on the third finger of her left hand and can’t help but wonder if her old man would appreciate the fact that she’s hitting on some young dude in Vegas during her little girls’ trip.

  Doubt it.

  Another of her friends sidles up to me. “Hey there, handsome,” she says. “I just loved your rendition of ‘Home Sweet Home.’”

  I press my lips together in a tight smile. “Thanks.” I give her a side hug. “I need to get to the merch booth, but thank you both for coming tonight.” I untangle myself and beeline for the booth where we’re forced to stand for a half hour post-show to pose for pictures and autograph posters.

  It’s the same thing every night—every night except Monday, when the lounge is closed and the shows are dark.

  God forbid one of us gets sick or can’t perform. The hotel has a bank of back-ups just in case, but never once have I had to use one.