The Other Side of Wrong

by Christi Barth

  As soon as the hydraulic door whooshed open, Cassidy bounded up the stairs into the bus. Maybe she’d convince Sarah to go try a famous Baltimore crab cake for lunch. Or see if any of the guys wanted to look over the lyrics to a new song she’d been toying with and get their feedback.

  What she didn’t expect was to see Sarah, in tears, with Cam and Jones menacingly looming over her.

  “What’s going on?”

  An actual snarl curling his lip to one side, Jones said, “We’re trying to educate this money-grubbing little bitch on the concept of trust and confidentiality. Guess those are words they left out of vocab at Bible school.”

  Jones was an unapologetic flirt. A guy who pushed to the edge of the line in almost every joke. But he also had portrayed nothing but a deep-seated respect for all women. So, his name-calling made Cassidy realize that something had gone very, very wrong.

  Slowly, she asked, “Sarah, what happened?”

  “Oh, no. We’re going to start with actual facts, not however she might twist them.” Cam fisted his hands at his hips. “Sarah here sold photos to the Daily Star. Gave an interview, too. ‘What it’s like to travel with rock stars. Photos of all of us. Photos we didn’t know she took, and damn well didn’t give permission to be sold.”

  Cassidy could barely swallow past the lump in her throat.

  It was one thing to have Sarah screw up with her. Involving Riptide? Potentially damaging their reputation, let alone making money off of their private lives? All of that crossed one hell of a line. Swiftly, she walked down the strip of black carpet to crouch next to Sarah’s chair. “Is this true?”

  Jones grabbed his iPad from the table. He thrust it at Cassidy. Then, right before she took it, he changed course and handed it to Jake, who’d come up behind her. “Maybe you should look first. See how you feel about what she decided to expose to the world about us. About you.”

  Jake used one finger to scroll through the story. Then he closed his eyes and wordlessly handed it to Cassidy.

  Oh, boy. She didn’t need Sarah to answer the question, after all. The proof was right there on the screen. Shots of Cam asleep in his bunk. Jones using his drumsticks on a water fountain back stage at their Philly show.

  But worst of all? A picture, clearly taken through a barely opened door, of Cassidy and Jake in a heated, disheveled embrace.

  Sarah had outed them. Not just to the world. To Jake’s friends, who they’d been lying to—by omission, but lying and hiding nonetheless.

  This was all her fault. Cassidy had been willing to take a chance on Sarah. She never, though, should’ve asked Riptide to take that chance along with her.

  The lump in her throat moved down to settle into a gigantic knot in her belly. But before she could lay into Sarah, Cam snatched the iPad from her hands. “Care to explain, Jake?”

  “Wait. Don’t blame him. Sarah is my responsibility.”

  Sarah’s tear-streaked face turned to her. “I’m not a responsibility. I’m your sister. You need to stick up for me.”

  “Are you kidding me with that? When I just gave you the chance at an entirely new life, and you repaid me by betraying my trust? That’s not how a sister acts. You took advantage of our blood tie. How dare you?” Cassidy was shaking, and yelling, by the time she finished.

  Then it hit her that a little bit of her righteous rage was misplaced. It grew out of how mad she was that Jake’s father had taken advantage of his son. How Peter McQuinn just assumed Jake would do all the hard work while Peter just did what he wanted.

  Just like Sarah.

  “Turns out a godless rocker has more ethics than a god-fearing Christian.” Jones muttered. Tossed his sticks onto the couch and stalked to the kitchen to grab a water.

  Sarah carefully swiped under each eye with the tip of her middle finger. That calculated swipe told Cassidy pretty much everything she needed to know about the situation. It told her that Sarah was more concerned about not messing up her eye makeup than not messing up her relationship with her sister.

  Planting her hands on the recliner’s cushy arms gave Sarah an air of sitting in a throne, rather than sitting in shame. Her tone indicated she was damned sure she held the high ground. “You guys are profiled all the time. Why shouldn’t I make money off of it, too? I don’t have any.”

  “You don’t have anything besides what I’ve given you,” Cassidy corrected.

  She’d given Sarah her credit card and carte blanche to spend an afternoon at the mall getting more clothes. She’d bought her ticket to get her out of Dubai. She’d agreed to pay her a weekly wage and gave her a thousand dollars of walking around money so that she’d have a sense of independence.

  Jones paced past her, and then back again. His legs jittered, and he kept shaking out his hands as though they’d gone numb. “We decide what gets released to the public. Our lives are our own to share. That decision isn’t yours.”

  “I’m so sorry this happened.” Cassidy squeezed Jones’s biceps in apology while she aimed her words at Cam.

  He waved her off. “I’m not even there yet. I’m waiting on Jake to explain how the hell he’s sleeping with you.”

  Jake did a slow roll of his head, taking in each burning set of eyes aimed his way. Cam and Jones burned with anger, Sarah’s with righteous indignation, and Cassidy’s with betrayal and embarrassment. It was quite the rock and roll good time…not.

  Jerking his thumb toward the door, he suggested, “Cam, can we discuss this privately? Not involve everyone?”

  “Little late for that.” Cam threw out his arm to encompass the whole bus. “We’re all involved, Jake. You know why? Because of what you said, over and over and over, stacked up against what you just did.”

  “Look, I know I fucked—” Jake didn’t get past the warm-up to his apology. Cam just sort of vibrated with fury and it cut him off.

  “We’re all involved because of the fucking year you spent reminding me that the epic Triangulation disaster was my fault. That it was my bad decision to sleep with that skirt from the label and listen to her twisted, crappy agenda of advice.”

  Regret poured off Jake like the fog off the harbor this morning. “I should’ve dropped it a long time ago. We should’ve just fought it out and cleared the air.”

  “But we didn’t. You found passive aggressive ways to hassle me about how mixing a sex into the band was dumb and almost ruined us. Then, when Kylie came into the picture, you threw it all in my face again. Even though I told you I loved her. Do you remember what you said? That day you punched me outside First Avenue when you found out we were sleeping together?”

  It hurt Cassidy to watch these brothers by choice going at each other. Maybe they did need to yell it all out to move past it. But this was worse than watching Jake fight with his father.

  Cam’s fury seemed to strike far deeper at Jake, given the sheet-white cast under his day-old stubble.

  Helpfully, Jones raised his hand with the answer. “He said the music isn’t going to be what ends Riptide—your bad decisions will do that.”

  Cam nodded. “How come when it’s you letting your dick make the decisions, it’s a different story?”

  Cassidy’s hand flew to her mouth. Talk about harsh. Even though she knew it wasn’t personal, knew that Cam was venting at Jake and not her, it stung.

  “It is different,” Jake insisted.

  “Really? What happens if you and Cassidy fight? What if she pulls the offer to share Madison Square Garden? Or what if you really piss her off a month down the road, and she tells EmKat you were a jerk to her and our offer gets yanked?”

  “I would never do that,” Cassidy protested.

  Simultaneously, Jake said, “Our what? We got an offer?”

  “Cassidy, you don’t want to get in the middle of this right now. You’re not blameless, but you’re also not to blame. Sarah’s choices were her own. So, you and me, we can move past that.”

  “We got an offer?” Jake repeated, with Jones simultaneously echoing
him. They both had wide eyes of shock, but not excitement. Like they were wary. Wondering if it was really true.

  Cam tented his hands over his nose and mouth, closing his eyes. Then he scrubbed his palms up, over his forehead to hold his head as if it was splitting open. “Yeah. Tony and Kylie are up in the suite right now, getting all the details. He texted me in the elevator on the way down here. I wanted to tell you guys, but then Jones discovered the story about us that Sarah sold and the whole shit show started.”

  After a slow spin on his heel, Jones thwacked the table with his palm. “They want to make our album?” This time the tone shifted to about fifty/fifty, disbelief and unadulterated joy.

  “They want us. Riptide. Two albums, thirty stop international tour, forty stop U.S. tour. All the bells and whistles.” He dropped his arms and laser-stared at Jake. “It’s contingent on Riptide being me, you, and Jones. Otherwise, no deal. They heard about your disappearing act. No substitutions allowed. All of us or none of us.”

  Cassidy pivoted to look at Jake. A muscle popped on the side of his neck, and a vein throbbed at his temple. The joy definitely hadn’t hit him yet.

  And she knew why.

  The board meeting was in less than ten days. There, his future would be decided. Jake was too responsible, too selfless, to decide what would be best for him. He seemed to be operating on doing what would be best for the greater good. Worrying about the thousands of people who worked for MCQ.

  Now he had a new equation in the mix. His best friends would have nothing without him. Literally.

  How was he supposed to choose? And live with the inevitable guilt for the hurt he caused?

  Well, she’d chosen already. Sticking up for Jake, choosing his side no matter, what was a no-brainer. “Cam, you can’t pressure him like that. It isn’t fair.”

  “Like what? I’m just laying out what I know. Not sugar-coating the truth. Not hiding it, either. Unlike some people on this bus.” Just that quickly, he dismissed Cassidy’s attempt at intervention and pivoted back to Jake. “Why’d you sneak around? Why take the risk, at a time when our entire career hinges on what we do, how we do it, and who we do it with?”

  Okay, he got a second one for free due to the extenuating circumstances. But if there was a third jab from Cam, Cassidy would take it personally. And very possibly smack him right across that chiseled jaw.

  The silver lining was that the poke at Cassidy seemed to have uncovered Jake’s chivalrous instincts. Like a swoon-inducing knight of old defending his maiden, Jake squared his shoulders and braced his legs wide apart in a fighting stance. His slitted eyes burned with a dark blue fire.

  “Watch yourself, Cam.” He gave the threat a few seconds to sink in, and then continued. “I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want to fight about it. This thing with me and Cassidy, it isn’t like what happened with Triangulation. She’d never manipulate me.”

  Cam stalked half the length of the bus before turning back, hands jammed in his pockets. “For fuck’s sake, I was thirty years old when the shit hit the fan with Suzy. You think I intended to be manipulated? You think I planned to make a decision so bad it almost tanked us for good?”

  “We agreed, when I came back, that my responsibility to Riptide would be over as soon as our last concert ended. So, there wasn’t any point in getting into a big group discussion about it.”

  “The hell we agreed on that,” Jones shot back. “We agreed to give you some space to pull your head out of your ass. We agreed not to push you. Because we assumed, you’d realize that your whole family and that fucking company is using you.”

  Cassidy curled her toes in her platform sandals to keep from jumping up and down. And clasped her hands tightly to keep from applauding. When she’d sought out Riptide, it was to help herself. Now, though, she wanted just as much to help Jake realize that his true path lay in the kick-ass music that he made with his friends. It was nice to have Jones help her along and play the heavy.

  “I wish it was that simple. But you don’t get to decide for me.”

  “Neither do they.” Whoops. Cassidy hadn’t meant for that to be out loud. No matter how true.

  Even though she regretted letting it slip when all the guys cracked their necks whipping to look at her. Jones smirked, clearly amused that she wouldn’t back away from the fray. Cam still radiated anger.

  But Jake…he was still in fight mode. And she wasn’t entirely certain it was all directed at his bandmates. Not after her comment.

  She backed away to gingerly perch on the very edge of the couch. Cassidy knew she should probably leave them alone to hash it out. But she couldn’t leave Jake alone. Maybe—hopefully—her presence helped him at this very rough moment.

  Cassidy didn’t ever want Jake to think that she’d cut and run just when things got tough. Got real. Got ugly.

  Cam looked at Jones, as though giving him the space to take a turn. Instead, Jones backed off and sat next to Cassidy. Sighing, Cam pointed his finger at Jake. “You don't get to stand on your high horse with me for fucking months and then pull the same shit yourself. Mine was an honest mistake. An idiotic, thoughtless fuck-up. Yours, however? You deliberately set out to keep this from us. Deliberately waded into deep-ass waters that you talked yourself blue in the face lecturing me on how dangerous they were.”

  “I’m sorry, okay? It was supposed to just be for these few weeks. There wasn’t a point in telling you if Riptide wouldn’t last past this concert.”

  “Well, now that’s up to you, isn’t it? Our band, our future, all hanging on your decision. Let us know when you make up your damn mind.” Cam stalked out of the bus.

  Jones picked up his sticks, jammed them down the back of his jeans and said, “You made one hell of a bad decision. You know it was wrong. You know how to fix it? Figure out what’s on the other side of wrong.” He exited just as fast.

  That left Cassidy alone with Jake. Just not in the way she’d hoped. Before she could hug him, or say something comforting, he jerked his head toward the back of the bus. “You’d better go talk to your sister.”

  “Oh, I thought I’d let her cool off a bit. Me too, for that matter. While I figure out what to do next.”

  His laugh was harsh. “That’s the question of the day, isn’t it?”

  “Jake, I’m sorry—”

  “Stop. This was my fault. My problem.”

  Sick to her stomach, Cassidy said, “No, I’m to blame, too. I had no idea about any of this. If I’d known, I wouldn’t have worked so hard to seduce you against your will.”

  “I turn down women every day. Sometimes fifty a night. If I’d wanted to resist you, I would have. Just like if I’d really wanted to put Riptide first, and not my dick, as Cam so eloquently said, I would have.”

  Ouch. How come what was primarily a compliment sounded so…off?

  Cassidy approached him, but Jake backed away. So fast it would be laughable if his action didn’t put a lump in her throat. “Do you want to talk about this?”

  “Hell, no. There’s been enough talking this morning.” His hand curled around the silver pole by the steps. “You have to make a decision about your family. And I have to decide about mine.”

  It was the perfect opening to leave him with a piercingly poignant thought to mull. “Which one?”

  “That’s not fucking helpful,” he growled.

  “Isn’t it?”

  Without even a backwards glance, Jake thudded off the bus.

  Which left Cassidy with a troubled sister she no longer respected, a group she’d always respected that might break up because she’d followed…okay, pursued her heart, and a boyfriend that was even closer to the brink of breaking up with her…except now he’d be pissy about it, and definitely not open to discussing a continuation of their tryst.

  Oh, and no crying allowed because it’d mess up her throat for tonight’s show.

  To hell with the leather jumpsuit she’d be wearing in twelve hours. Cassidy also banged down the steps and heade
d for the cluster of shops and restaurants that fronted the harbor. She needed a donut, and she’d twist her ankle on every cobblestone in this town to find one.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Jake occasionally did stupid things, but he wasn’t actually stupid. He knew where he had to start.

  Well…first, he ran from one side of the Baltimore harbor, up the enormous hill they probably used to spot the British back in the day—or fire on them—and then back over to Fells Point. The plan was to run off his frustration.

  Since that hadn’t been the plan when he put on his rock star black, studded Converse this morning, he’d probably run on a couple of blisters. Kind of par for the course the way his day was going.

  Then he stopped at a restaurant and had a cinnamon roll bigger than his head. Everyone in Riptide had his cell. If they needed to find him, they would. But Jake damn well wanted to soothe over all the dings he’d gotten this morning with sugar, butter, and about a gallon of coffee. The Blue Moon evidently shut down after lunch. It took a half dozen pointed glares from the staff—and putting chairs upside down on the tables—before he took the hint and cleared out.

  But he had cleared his head.

  Jake couldn’t give in to the temptation to go straight back to Cassidy. Because Cam had been right that it wasn’t about her. Everything that had gone down had its seeds in Triangulation. That bad decision on Cam’s part led to the rest.

  Plus? He did everything with Cam. They’d been best friends for more than a decade. Each mistake they’d made had been solo—a result of not checking in with the other. Of not taking the time and care to think about the group as a whole.

  That stopped today.

  Setup was probably done by now. No rehearsal, because they were doing back-to-back shows tonight. The 8X10 Club was their smallest venue since the start of this tour. They’d wanted to finish in as intimate a space as possible, to get this final read on the audience, on how they liked Riptide’s new sound.

  Feeling like he didn’t deserve to be cut any breaks today, Jake hoofed it back around the harbor again, texting Cam along the way. They met at the Pub Dog, a bar just a few doors down from the club.