Read Online The Opposite Of Right (Bad Decisions Trilogy #1) by Christi Barth - Free Book Online
Authors: Christi Barth
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about their music and present it in the best possible light to the world. That’s what excited me about the Smithsonian internship. It fit all my parents’ requirements of leading perfectly to a job at an NGO, promoting the arts. Maybe being a lobbyist. But I wanted it because I’d get to work with artists. Interpret their work by creating liner notes booklets for a collection of world music albums.”
Cam reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. Mostly because he couldn’t for another second resist the urge to touch her. Serious conversation or not. “With that off the table, what’s next?”
Kylie literally darted to his side, to lean back against the sign next to him. “Same question, right back at ya.”
“Well, we’re done with our label. After Triangulation tanked, they offered to do a best-of compilation, but nothing else. Flat-out refused to let us try anything new.”
“Thank goodness you realized that you needed to start over.”
The three of them had hunkered down in a cabin in Sedona for two weeks. Cam apologized three nights running before Jake and Jones got sick of it and dumped him in the creek. They played music outside, bouncing it off pine trees. Scribbled lyrics on paper, on laptops, even on the kitchen wall. They’d snapped a picture, then painted over it before they left. By the end, Riptide was stronger than ever. Or so they hoped.
“We stopped listening to everyone else and just made the music that we like. So the bottom line is that we’re using all our own money. For the recording sessions and for this tour. If it goes well, hopefully we can find another label to back us.”
“What if this one flops, too?”
How come she was so insightful? How’d she know to poke at every thought that pinged endlessly around his brain? How the hell did Kylie see straight inside him?
A sharp elbow nudged into his ribs after just a few seconds. “Cam? Do you have a plan B?”
“Nah.”
Those pale pink lips formed a perfect O of astonishment. “How can you not care enough to plan for the worst?”
“Oh, I care. I care about fucking up again. About dragging Jake and Jones back down with me. I fucked us up royally once. Feel guilty as hell about it.” His role in the debacle of Triangulation haunted him. Pushed him to be better. To dig deeper into the creative well, to churn out the very best music possible. To his mind, though, the worst had already happened. They’d sold out. And he was damned if they’d ever do it again.
With a wry smile, Kylie asked, “Doesn’t making money matter?”
“Of course. Riptide is a business. It has to support us. But what brought us together, what keeps us together, is the art of making music. Personal expression through songs. We’re not a cover band playing hits at some beach shack, for God’s sake.” Although Cam would rather do that as an honest way to turn a buck performing, than let a single person try to influence his creativity ever again. “And if what everyone else thinks rules every single decision about my music, where am I in that equation? Gone. Invisible.”
She laid a hand on Cam’s chest. Slid her leg so they touched, ankle to shoulder, with her head tilted up to his. “That’s exactly how I feel following the path my family planned. Invisible. As though nobody sees me. Or hears me.”
Cam tipped his forehead down to Kylie’s. “I do.”
They stood like that, quiet but oh-so-together, in the summer sun, until a bead of sweat dripped down his face and onto Kylie. Laughing, they broke apart.
“We should go back down. You don’t want Jake or Jones coming up here looking for us.” Kylie held up a hand to stop him as she opened the door. “And don’t try to tell me they don’t know this place exists. This rooftop has sexy makeout spot written all over it. Every self-respecting, hot-blooded rock star who’s ever performed here probably hooked up under the glow of this neon.”
Cam swatted her fine, fine
Cam reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. Mostly because he couldn’t for another second resist the urge to touch her. Serious conversation or not. “With that off the table, what’s next?”
Kylie literally darted to his side, to lean back against the sign next to him. “Same question, right back at ya.”
“Well, we’re done with our label. After Triangulation tanked, they offered to do a best-of compilation, but nothing else. Flat-out refused to let us try anything new.”
“Thank goodness you realized that you needed to start over.”
The three of them had hunkered down in a cabin in Sedona for two weeks. Cam apologized three nights running before Jake and Jones got sick of it and dumped him in the creek. They played music outside, bouncing it off pine trees. Scribbled lyrics on paper, on laptops, even on the kitchen wall. They’d snapped a picture, then painted over it before they left. By the end, Riptide was stronger than ever. Or so they hoped.
“We stopped listening to everyone else and just made the music that we like. So the bottom line is that we’re using all our own money. For the recording sessions and for this tour. If it goes well, hopefully we can find another label to back us.”
“What if this one flops, too?”
How come she was so insightful? How’d she know to poke at every thought that pinged endlessly around his brain? How the hell did Kylie see straight inside him?
A sharp elbow nudged into his ribs after just a few seconds. “Cam? Do you have a plan B?”
“Nah.”
Those pale pink lips formed a perfect O of astonishment. “How can you not care enough to plan for the worst?”
“Oh, I care. I care about fucking up again. About dragging Jake and Jones back down with me. I fucked us up royally once. Feel guilty as hell about it.” His role in the debacle of Triangulation haunted him. Pushed him to be better. To dig deeper into the creative well, to churn out the very best music possible. To his mind, though, the worst had already happened. They’d sold out. And he was damned if they’d ever do it again.
With a wry smile, Kylie asked, “Doesn’t making money matter?”
“Of course. Riptide is a business. It has to support us. But what brought us together, what keeps us together, is the art of making music. Personal expression through songs. We’re not a cover band playing hits at some beach shack, for God’s sake.” Although Cam would rather do that as an honest way to turn a buck performing, than let a single person try to influence his creativity ever again. “And if what everyone else thinks rules every single decision about my music, where am I in that equation? Gone. Invisible.”
She laid a hand on Cam’s chest. Slid her leg so they touched, ankle to shoulder, with her head tilted up to his. “That’s exactly how I feel following the path my family planned. Invisible. As though nobody sees me. Or hears me.”
Cam tipped his forehead down to Kylie’s. “I do.”
They stood like that, quiet but oh-so-together, in the summer sun, until a bead of sweat dripped down his face and onto Kylie. Laughing, they broke apart.
“We should go back down. You don’t want Jake or Jones coming up here looking for us.” Kylie held up a hand to stop him as she opened the door. “And don’t try to tell me they don’t know this place exists. This rooftop has sexy makeout spot written all over it. Every self-respecting, hot-blooded rock star who’s ever performed here probably hooked up under the glow of this neon.”
Cam swatted her fine, fine
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