The Opposite Of Right (Bad Decisions Trilogy #1) by Christi Barth Page A

their every step. Kylie kept a death grip on the narrow iron bannister. “How old is this place, anyway?”
    “It opened in 1906 as a vaudeville theater. There’s more than a century of performances buzzing through the walls of this place.”
    “Probably sharing that wall space with termites.”
    “You’ll like this, I promise.” At the top, he remembered the trick to turn the knob and lift to open the warped door. Cam threw it wide with a flourish. Sunlight blinded them. “After you.”
    Squinting, Kylie kept her hand on the door as she stepped out. And then squealed with delight. “I can see everything!” She rushed forward to plant her hands on the backs of the oversized neon letters that spelled the theater’s name on the marquee. “The state capitol, a lake”—she twisted to look in the opposite direction—“and another lake. Which is which?”
    “One of them’s Lake Mendota. Can’t remember the other. But I did remember that this rooftop is the best view in all of Madison.” Life on the road was a long slog. Moments like this broke up the monotony. Cam wanted to share it with her. Wanted to be the one responsible for putting a smile on her face.
    “It’s terrific. Thank you for bringing me up here.” Kylie grabbed his hand and sandwiched it between hers. Small. Soft. Delicate. She rubbed her thumb over his calluses. “Are these all from the guitar?”
    “Yeah.”
    “Can I ask you something? About your playing?”
    He was surrounded by all the makings of a perfect summer day: sparkling water, warm sun and a hot woman. Cam would do just about anything to extend the moment. “Sure.”
    “Why did the music change? How? I mean, I have everything Riptide’s ever recorded. I even pirated a copy of the original demo tape you sent into the label. And none of that music sounds like what you’ve been playing this week.”
    That could be good or bad. “None of it at all?”
    “I take it back. I can hear hints of your earlier stuff. Melodic echoes, almost. So it’s different and familiar at the same time. But it couldn’t be more the opposite of your last album.”
    “That’s fucking right.” Cam regretted the words as soon as he said them. And then, he didn’t. He’d been professional. They all had. They’d kept their mouths publicly zipped about the shit bomb that was their last album. So finally telling someone was a relief. Telling Kylie was more than a relief. It was right.
    Her eyebrows shot up. “Sounds like you’ve got some strong thoughts on the matter.”
    Might as well spill it all. “We never wanted to make Triangulation . We hated the songs. Hated the sound. Hated it all.”
    “I thought you wrote your own songs.”
    “Most of them. Not the last album, though.” God, he hated that anyone might think they wrote that techno-pop crap. Bad enough they’d recorded it.
    “Don’t you have creative control? The ability to say no to something that obviously doesn’t work for you?” She flushed the same color as her hair. Dropped his hand. “Sorry. I don’t mean to be insulting.”
    “Don’t apologize. Whatever you say can’t be worse than what we’ve been saying since day one. I’d rather have your honest opinion. Otherwise, whatever you say about what we’re playing on this tour won’t be meaningful.”
    “Okay.” She bit her lip. “Um.” Looked down at the loose gravel underfoot. Just when Cam thought she’d wimp out, Kylie met his gaze straight on. “Your talent was still obvious on Triangulation . Hidden, though, behind a bunch of synthetic noise and flash. The reason, the drive behind the music, was gone. There was no soul to it.”
    Kylie really did understand music. That was a rarity among people who weren’t performers. It made this conversation a whole lot easier. “That’s because it was created to make money. Our label came up with the idea. A couple of bands were selling like crazy with an updated version of techno-pop. The plan was that we’d ride