The Opposite Of Right (Bad Decisions Trilogy #1) Read Online Free PDF Page B

from walls and ceilings. A desk covered in laptops and sheet music. Every window rimmed in lights like a party limo. Bar, kitchen, in gleaming chrome and granite.
    “You’ve got a nice ass, but it’s blocking my way.”
    Kylie whirled. She knew that voice. And the whipcord arm muscles hanging out of the baggy tank top. “Sorry, Mr. Jones.”
    “Just Jones. Fair warning, now—move the ass along or I’ll do it, and cop a free squeeze as payment.”
    She giggled and moved off the steps. Jones was famous for being a ladies’ man. But if he was polite enough to warn her first, she didn’t worry about him getting handsy. As she dropped her bag behind the recliner, Jake, Jones and Cam all piled in behind her.
    The hydraulics wheezed. The door shut. Kylie barely got a glimpse of long black hair and bright red lips before the driver dropped into the seat. “Go time, gentlemen. Plant yourselves somewhere.”
    Jones and Cam sprawled on the couch. Jake headed to the laptop. That left Kylie the recliner, which felt weird. Instead of getting comfortable, she sat on the edge of the bucket seat. She was essentially alone with three men she’d idolized for years. No way could she prop her sneakers on the footrest.
    Cam jerked his head toward the driver. “That’s Kyoko. She drives this bus. Tony drives the other. You met Tony?”
    “Mmm-hmm.” Talking to Cam last night had been easy. Maybe kissing him sort of broke the ice? But now, confronted with his bandmates, Kylie was nervous. What did you talk about with world-famous musicians?
    She knew their bios inside and out. All of them were only a few years older than she was. They seemed much more worldly, though. She’d done cheer and volleyball in high school. They’d been discovered at a house party and didn’t even graduate. While Kylie was ensconced behind Northwestern’s ivy-covered walls, they’d churned out hit after rocking platinum hit. Racked up Grammy nominations, AMA nominations and even had one of their songs used in the latest James Bond movie.
    So what the heck were they supposed to talk about for the next hour?
    “You worked the concert on Saturday?” Jones asked.
    She licked her lips. “Mmm-hmm.”
    “What do you think of the new sound?”
    Ah. Naturally. They wanted to talk about their music. That, Kylie could do. Some of the tension drained out of her shoulders. “What do you think of it?” she shot back.
    Jones elbowed Cam. “This one’s got some sass.”
    “Or she’s stalling,” said Jake, without bothering to turn around.
    His unfriendliness stung. And his assumption couldn’t be more wrong. It pissed her off so much that Kylie rose and—carefully holding on to the padded ceiling overhang as the bus picked up speed—walked down to defend herself to his face. Okay, the side of his head, because he wouldn’t look up from the laptop.
    “I’m not stalling. I’m making a point. If you’re trying out a new sound, what I think doesn’t matter.”
    That made him look up. Just enough to sneer at her. “Well, we’re not going to make double platinum if the fans don’t like it. You are a fan, aren’t you?”
    “Yes. A huge fan.” She stopped herself before admitting to the trio of posters she’d carefully rolled and put into storage just a few hours ago. “But you three have to be the very first fans.”
    “Explain,” barked Jones.
    It was a relief to face him instead of the grump at the desk. “A new sound is like a new pair of sneakers. It needs to be broken in before you fall in love with it. We—that is, your fans—can’t fall in love with your music until you do. You’ve got to believe that this is the very best music you can make together. Feel every beat, every note, in your bones. Until you get to that point, there’s no point in my falling in love with it.”
    Cam crossed his arms over his chest. “Well said.”
    His praise rocketed warmth through her like a Red Bull vodka shot. But if she was going to be with these men