Chapter Two

Cruel Morning

John Cena woke up on the floor between the couch and the glass coffee stand. It was incredibly uncomfortable, and his ribs hurt, and he was initially unaware of his surroundings, but then the memories all flooded back to him like a kick in the testicles. He was protecting the singer that hated him. Hell, she didn't even know him, but she hated him. He could sense those kinds of things. People had a tendency to dislike him...dislike him a lot.

He heard the door open and he sat up, hitting his shoulder on the table. "Ow!" he snapped. Lilian peered over the couch in that blue number she had answered the door in last night, a smirk on her face.

"I made the couch up for a reason."

"You made the couch to fit somebody like your PR guy," he retorted, "not a big guy like me." She laughed at him.

"I'll take you out for breakfast. Get yourself fixed up and we'll go." He watched her, mystified, as she disappeared into her room.

He had to admit that he wasn't a fan. Hip-hop was more his thing. Her opening act, Rey Mysterio, was one of his best friends and Rey was giving him a hand with his album. He had started working on it several years before, and had yet to even start recording. It was an arduous process, one that he had to admit he enjoyed learning about.

Lilian emerged minutes later, dressed in a black miniskirt and a black halter top. Her hair was back in a ponytail, and her Lilian Garcia charm was on. He could see what some people were talking about; her moods swapped quick. But he was determined to get along with her.

"So, where you from?" Lilian inquired as she laced up her shoes.

"Boston area."

"And you're in a Yankees jersey?" she inquired. "You're a Yankees fan?" She was surprised; Boston was faithful to the Red Sox.

"I'm a Roger Clemens fan," he corrected her and she laughed.

"Great cover," she replied, prompting him to laugh. She had to admit, maybe having him with her wasn't going to be such a bad thing.

"And you, Miss Garcia? A baseball fan?"

"I'm more of a basketball lover," she confessed. "But I do know how Beantown gets for the Red Sox." He laughed. She was right; when the Red Sox had won the World Series in 2004, all hell had broken loose. Lucky for him, he was down in Australia, guarding some bigwig oil tycoon. But he had caught the golden moment on the radio and had even gotten completely hammered with his client for celebration.

"Basketball, huh?" he replied. "You?"

"I absolutely love the Lakers."

Cena scoffed. "Overrated. Spurs."

"San Antonio?" she inquired. He nodded, and she laughed. "I'll have you know they got the Iceman."

"Kobe and Shaq."

"An accused rapist and a wannabe rapper? I stand corrected." Lilian flashed him the middle finger. "Well, that wasn't very ladylike."

"You'll learn a few things about me in due time," Lilian replied, standing up, "and one of the things that you'll learn is I'm no lady."

"Sounds like a challenge..."

"God, my mother was right. All men do think alike!" she threw her hands up in the air, exasperated, prompting him to laugh as they made their way out of the hotel together for breakfast.

Breakfast was fun, with John telling stories about his childhood, and Lilian talking about her travels and her record dealings. She was fascinated to hear about John's album that he was working on, and even asked if she could lay down a few vocals for him. He was genuinely touched and surprised by the idea, but was all for it. With a name like Lilian Garcia on his album, it had a tendency to get it out there a little bit more. He even managed to get her to promise to make a music video with him for the track. She even agreed to it.

Lilian was a smart woman, graduating cum laude in South Carolina, and she had the brains to do anything. But she had realized her music talents early on and realized that she wanted to direct her life in that route. It had been rough, shaky and at times downright disappointing, but she admitted she wouldn't trade the feeling of standing in front of a crowd for anything in the world.

John wasn't too bad himself. He graduated from Springfield College in Springfield, Massachusetts with a degree in fitness, nutrition and kinesiology to be a personal trainer. He had an impeccable wit and a sense of humor unparallel to anybody she had ever worked with. Lilian was sure studio time with him would be fun.

But the fun she had with John Cena couldn't last forever. When they arrived back at the hotel, there was a message left at the front desk for her. It was from her mother. Lilian thanked her for the message and went with John to the elevator to go to her room.

"That sick fuck probably called her again," she replied.

"When did this all start?"

"A few months ago. It started with flowers...it just got more fucked up from there." The elevator doors slid open and she walked out into the hallway and stopped dead. "John..."

He saw it too. The door to her room was wide open and he reached into the waistband of his shorts and pulled out a 9 mm. She stared at him, eyes wide. "Protection thing. Chill." He made his way towards her room, with her holding onto his arm close behind. She knew that she had locked it, and somebody had to have access to her keycard. She was terrified. He could feel her shaking against his arm.

He pulled the door open and gasped.

Her room had been ransacked. Things were strewn about everywhere, phone cords ripped out of the wall. John pulled out his cell phone and dialed the front desk. "Hello, John Cena here, Lilian Garcia's bodyguard. We have a problem with her room. Has anybody come along lately requesting access to her room? No. Well, somebody broke into her room and ransacked the place. It looks like a bomb went off in here. No, we'll be checking out, but whoever was in here caused severe damage. Any of those concerns can be taken up with Miss Garcia's crew. Thank you. Goodbye." He hung up. "Stuck up bitch." He turned to Lilian.

"You all right?"

"How...how did he get in here?" she inquired, staring down at everything. She picked up a diamond earring from the white carpet.

"I'm going to check around the room for anybody. Stay here," he replied, closing the door. "After that, I want you to see if anything's missing, gather your things and you're checking out. You can't stay here after this." She nodded and he quickly went into her room to check for any sign of whoever broke into the room. Lilian was standing, fingernails between her teeth, trembling violently. She was terrified.

John emerged and said that everything was all clear and he accompanied her into the room. She was beautiful when she was scared. Hell, she was beautiful, but luck hadn't swung his way for a long time with the ladies. And he was pretty sure a Diva like Lilian Garcia was so far out of his league that it was impossible to even hope for anything.

Lilian took a look through her things while John gathered her bags. There were a few items of lingerie and dresses – her favorite clothing – missing, but she wasn't about to say anything about that to her bodyguard. It was slightly embarrassing. As well, there were a few pieces of jewelry that was worth at least a cool million missing, which she did tell him. Everything that went missing, she had stated in interviews that she had worn in her favorite photographs.

She packed up her things as hotel staff came up to the room to survey the wreckage. They were infuriated, but John and Lilian maintained that they had come up here to find the door wide open. "Miss Garcia has been dealing with a stalker for some time now, and it's easy for him to find out where she is," John maintained. "That's why we're going to check out of this place."

"But this damage..."

"You can take it up with my manager," Lilian replied. "A check will be cut to reimburse for the damage." She slung a duffel bag over her shoulder and John grabbed a suitcase. With that, they pushed past the staff and left the hotel room.

Lilian was still shaking, and she had yet to phone her mother.