A lie has no leg, but a scandal has wings – Thomas Fuller

They met in a nondescript motel room off the interstate at a quarter to three on a Wednesday afternoon. Blinds drawn tight, the only light coming from the too-bright overhead and the glow of a laptop on the desk.

"Soooo, what did you want to talk about?" Kendrick Dorsey asked. He was perched on the edge of his seat before the laptop. His fingers rested just above the keys, twitching with anxious anticipation.

He hadn't believed it when he'd gotten the call that morning. Had thought it to be some kind of prank set up by one of his colleagues. It was only upon his arrival at the Sunnyside Motel did he finally believe that he hadn't been invited there as a joke.

Not when he'd knocked on the bright blue door to room number sixteen and was met by none other than Trace Strickland.

The former lead guitarist for the once-popular country music band Tallahassee had opened the door and ushered Kendrick inside with nothing more than a jerk of his head. Kendrick, a reporter for Euphoria – a popular celebrity gossip magazine – had been shocked to come face-to-face with Trace Strickland. If only because the man had been dodging Kendrick's calls for weeks already as he'd tried to get a comment for his column.

Though it wasn't as if Trace had been handing out comments to other magazines. No, the man had been lying low. Hiding out from the public eye as he awaited his upcoming court appearance. His manager had no doubt been telling him to avoid implicating himself in any sort of way but Kendrick didn't think it mattered what Trace said to defend himself. The evidence against him was pretty damning.

For reporters like Kendrick, the trial was to be the final piece in a two-year-long puzzle. The truth behind why Tallahassee split up. None of the band members, Trace included, had ever publicly commented on the end of the band. Sure, they'd been going through a rough patch and they'd been hit with a few scandals at the time of their breakup – most of which had been Trace-induced from what Kendrick had read – but other groups had bounced back from worse.

Hell, Kendrick could name more than a dozen celebrities who had done worse than what Trace had done leading up to that split and were still raking in the big bucks.

Of course, those previous scandals had nothing to do with the big one that Trace Strickland was currently facing. No, this had been a carefully guarded secret, until it wasn't.

"I thought it was obvious what I wanted to talk about," Trace said.

He was lounging on one of the beds, leaning against the backboard with an arm folded behind his brunet head. His hair was close-cropped and spiky – clearly laden with way too much hair gel. There was a glass in his hand, partially filled with an amber-coloured liquid. From the smell that was emanating from Trace, Kendrick guessed that it was whisky.

Alcohol wasn't the only scent that Kendrick was picking up in the room. He had the suspicion that Trace was living in this dump, avoiding his flashy apartment over in Beverly Hills.

Probably a smart move. Kendrick knew of more than one paparazzo who'd been staking out the apartment, waiting to ambush Trace.

"You want to give an interview?"

"Yup." Trace popped the 'p' and smiled in a way that didn't touch his brown eyes. "I figured that if I'm going down, I might as well tell my side of the story."

"Do you mind if I record this?" Kendrick asked.

"Go for it."

Kendrick reached for his recorder and turned it on. "Where would you like to start?"

Trace sipped from the glass. "What do you want to know?"

"Why don't you tell me about these allegations made against you? Are they true?"

"My lawyer has told me that I'm not allowed to discuss the court case until the trial. Come find me once that's been dealt with and I'll give you all the gritty little details you want to know."

Kendrick blinked. He wasn't sure where this interview was going. He was sure that Trace Strickland was more than a little drunk. "Um...Okay. If you didn't call me here to discuss the trial then what story am I writing about? You told me on the phone that you had a big scoop but so far you're not giving me much to go on. If I can't ask you about the case, what do you want me to ask you about?"

Again, another sip from that glass. Kendrick watched as Trace swallowed. "I invited you here, Mr. Dorsey, because I think it's unfair that I'm the only person getting thrown under the bus for this shit."

"Are you referring to your former bandmates? Brock Mason, Grayson Thomas, and Jeremiah Danvers?"

Trace waved a hand lazily. "Who else would I be talking about?"

This interview was going to be like pulling teeth. Kendrick could already feel his irritation rising. "Are you saying that all three of them should be implicated as well?"

"Well, none of them are saints, that's for sure. Grayson and Jeremiah partied just as hard as I did. And Brock...Let's just say that if I'm going to hell, then that bastard should be going right there alongside me."

Okay, Kendrick thought. You want to play hard to get but at least now we're getting somewhere.

"Let's start with Brock, then. The two of you were close growing up, correct?"

"Yes," Trace said with an edge of bitterness. "I moved from Tallahassee, Florida to L.A. in kindergarten. That's where I first met Brock. We got our band name because he said that my leaving Tallahassee was the greatest thing in the world. Shows what he knew, huh. If my family had stayed in Florida, I wouldn't be in this position now. It's all Brock's fault. He dragged me into this hellhole."

The more Trace spoke, the less Kendrick believed that this was a great scoop. He was going to have to spend hours in front of his computer to make any of this usable. To him, it sounded like Trace had some unresolved issues that he probably needed to resolve.

Kendrick asked then, "Are you saying that Brock is the reason these accusations are coming against you? That he somehow had a hand in it?"

For a moment, Kendrick wasn't sure if Trace was going to answer. He wondered if he'd perhaps ventured into that area the lawyers had warned Strickland to steer clear of.

Then, he watched as some kind of resolve settled on Trace's face as he knocked back the remainder of his drink.

"Oh yeah," he muttered darkly. "Brock knew what was going on. How could he not? We lived together. And yet I'm the only person in the band taking the fall. Like none of them had a hand in what went down."

Trace didn't need much prompting after that, launching into secrets and stories of the years that the members of Tallahassee had been friends. The ex-musician detailed all of it – the scandals leading into the band's breakup, which included his own brief misguided fling with a renowned female country artist.

That story made Kendrick's blood boil. He had a younger sister and if some asshole guy had done what Trace had done to that woman to his sister...Kendrick didn't want to think about what he'd do in retribution.

At the end of the conversation, a few hours later as the sky was beginning to darken, Kendrick wasn't quite sure what he'd just witnessed. Sure, the information was good. Better than good. His editor would be thrilled. At this rate, they would be able to have something ready for the issue on Friday.

Yet something didn't feel quite right to Kendrick. Perhaps it was the hazy, distant look on Trace's face. Or maybe it was the fact that the only part of Trace that seemed fully aware was the hate-fueled glint in his eyes.

Kendrick switched the recorded off. He didn't want to have the next part of this conversation recorded. "Is everything you've just told me true?"

Trace shrugged. At some point during his confessional, he'd reached for the whisky he'd been drinking earlier but instead of pouring a new glass, he'd simply hung onto the bottle. It was clasped against his chest now, like a child clutching a teddy bear. "Does it matter if it's true?"

"It's not my reputation that'll be implicated if it's not."

"Like my reputation can get any worse," Trace said with a snort.

"Are you saying that you're lying about all of this? Just a way to get back at Brock for all of the shit you went through together?"

Because that was what it sounded like to Kendrick. A great big steaming pile of crap that could be smelled from a mile away.

Trace drank again. "Look man, all I'm saying is that Brock Mason and those other guys aren't as cookie-cutter country as everyone thinks they are. Brock especially. Maybe it's because of what I've been saying and maybe it's because of other things. You sure as hell don't need to give a shit so long as it sells copies of your precious magazine. Which it will."

"So, you're just trying to destroy their reputations alongside yours? For something they all may or may not have been a part of because you don't have – or are refusing to divulge – proof on the matter?"

"Pretty much. Brock ruined my life. Figured I might as well return the favour before this all plays out."

It was official, Kendrick thought as he stared at the man across from him. This guy was nuts.

Yet he'd been right about one thing. Kendrick's boss at Euphoria would go crazy over the story, regardless of if it was true or not. It wasn't his job to report on truth. He worked for a gossip magazine for Christ's sake. The people who read Euphoria wanted fluff and entertainment.

A celebrity feud like the one between Trace Strickland and Brock Mason would definitely fly off the shelf. The only thing that really mattered was the sales.

"Okay," Kendrick said as he began to pack up his things. "I'll write the article. We should have something printed by Friday or Monday, latest."

"I look forward to reading your work, Mr. Dorsey," Trace said with a self-assured grin. Like he knew the exact kind of pandemonium that he was about to unleash on a poor, unsuspecting Brock Mason.

Kendrick almost felt bad for the guy, not that he'd ever met Brock Mason. But he didn't feel bad enough not to write the article. It was his job after all. If Brock Mason had something to say in response to Trace Strickland's words, well, he could call Kendrick to set up a meeting.

Perhaps, before the week was out, Kendrick would know the full story. There was one thing in particular that had caught his ear. Right at the end – Brock Mason and those other guys aren't as cookie-cutter country as everyone thinks they are. Brock especially. Maybe it's because of what I've been saying and maybe it's because of other things.

It sounded to Kendrick like Brock had a secret. One that Trace wasn't going to disclose, not yet anyway. Not when he could hold it over Brock as a dark little threat, ready to be wielded whenever it was most convenient.

Which was why it intrigued Kendrick so. There was nothing he liked more than a puzzle and now he was determined to find out what secrets Brock Mason had up his sleeve.