A/N: Blessed be the smart ones! Big ups to Michelle05 for being smarter than me and to Queen of Kaos for sharing the knowledge. You two are officially now on my Christmas card list! I'd also like to say thank you for all of your well wishes on my surgery. It went well, though I'm still in the bed. Hopefully, I'll be on my feet in no time.

And her Queenliness, the goddess that she is, did a new banner for Body Image…check out my myspace page for it and make sure to tell her just how great she is!

Finally, this chapter didn't read anything like it was supposed to, but it's what came out, so I'ma stick with it.

Chapter 11

When Parker Sutton got out of bed that morning, she did not envision that her day would turn out like this. She went to class, she aced her test, stopped by her mom's for a quick lunch, called Avery and made plans to watch Howard Stern…it was all working out according to plan. Nowhere in her planner was she supposed to be have been embarrassed on national level, flip out on her best friend, or be on her way to Delaware to give John Cena a piece of her mind. Madness wasn't something that had a place in her life; that was more Avery's deal. But no matter how she tried to rationalize it, there she was, sitting in the passenger's seat, heading up the highway, about to cross state lines to tell the man that she had lusted after for so many years that he was a complete and total phallic symbol.

Parker sat quietly, still replaying the interview in her mind. She was bet; he only slept with her so his friends wouldn't think he was a pussy. He went on national radio and told the world that she blew him. And as if that wasn't bad enough, John told everyone just how fat she was; apparently she was so big that he had to feel his way around because even with the lights on, she didn't look like a woman. And of course, she couldn't forget that he just rushed up to her room, knocked her down and tipped out the door.

All of those hours of talking meant nothing, neither did waking up in his arms, apparently. Although she knew that John hooked up every night, it still meant something to her. If nothing else, he could've just let her live in the fantasy that it meant something to him, too. It didn't have to be love, but it could have just been the nice time that he claimed it to be.

Parker let her eyes close as the words of the song playing on the radio seemed to mirror how she was feeling. Admittedly, when she first heard Creep by Radiohead, she didn't think it was possible for someone to have such a low opinion of themself. Parker's parents taught her to be strong and to hold her head up high…she never once second guessed how great she was. But somehow, the words to that song made sense to her now. "I don't care if it hurts. I want to have control. I want a perfect body. I want a perfect soul. I want you to notice when I'm not around. You're so fucking special. I wish I was special. But I'm a creep. I'm a weirdo. What the hell am I doing here? I don't belong here."

Parker didn't belong there…she had been telling herself that from the moment that John kissed her, sitting on the bench at the West Wall of the Harbor. There was no reason that a guy like him would want to be with a girl like her. She was smarter than he was and eventually, she would make more money than him, too. Who knows, in a few years, he may even need her services, but for now…they're worlds should have never have crossed. She felt like a weirdo compared to him. His muscles had muscles, his body showed years of discipline and her showed years of neglect. He thought twice about eating a hotdog; Parker wouldn't think twice about frying chicken at three in the morning, if that's what she wanted. And wasn't that she was greedy, she just didn't care. Some people spend outrageous amounts of money on clothes and cars; Parker ate. John Cena had admitted to owning several muscle cars. Who spends $50,000 on a car from the 70s? If he could have total disregard for his personal finances, why did Parker need to count every calorie or read every label before she put anything into her mouth? Everyone had a vice and Parker's happened to be food; that didn't make her a bad person.

It took years and little to no work to become 285 pounds, but it would take years and more work than she had ever done in her life to lose it. And truthfully, she didn't want to do it. She was happy with the person Parker Sutton was, it didn't matter to her what Parker Sutton's weight was. She came from a family of big women. And each and every one of them was married, with beautiful children and happy lives. She had wonderful role models…why should she give that up because a magazine told her what beauty was supposed to be? If she looked at that way, Avery was skinny and she was still wasn't happy. What did that mean for Parker?

She wasn't doing this. She wasn't questioning her existence or her worth; not for John Cena. He wasn't happy either. He was kicking himself for eating a fucking hotdog. He was a slave to other people's opinions. He may have been in shape, but he didn't know what freedom felt like. No matter how muscular or fit he was, people still talked about him. They accused him of juicing and criticized his wrestling skills. People talk; that's what they do. No one is completely happy with their own lives, so they have to find something in someone else's life to put them down for. Parker wasn't going to Delaware, looking like the fat desperate girl trying to embarrass John Cena for embarrassing her. She was going to Delaware to tell him that she was a beautiful and she was a better person than he would ever be.

"So…they're staying at the Sheraton off of Route 40. We should be there by midnight." Avery turned down the volume on the car stereo, as she glanced in the review mirror. "They'll be hanging out at the bar."

Parker slowly opened her eyes and turned her head toward her best friend. It seemed like hours since either of them spoke, but Parker knew they both had a lot on their minds. Avery was the best friend anyone could ask for. She had a lot of shit what her and she got herself into a lot of situations that could have easily been avoided. But if nothing else, she had a beautiful heart and she would do anything for Parker; including driving to Delaware in the middle of the night to defend her to a guy that broke her heart. "How do you know this stuff?"

"I called Randy." Avery shrugged as if it should have been common knowledge. "He gave me the hotel name, the address, John's room number…everything. He even got us a room so we wouldn't have to drive back tonight. He thought it was funny that we were coming up there."

Parker froze; she hadn't considered the other guys would be there too. "You know, I was all ready to rip John a new one…I didn't even think that I'd have see those guys again. I know they all heard it. How I am I supposed to face them?"

"You face them with your head up. You look those bastards right in the eye and then you turn around and steal Cena in the fucking face." Avery didn't crack a smile. She meant every word of it. "If you want, I'll hold that bitch, while you commence to stomping that ass. Check the glove box…" She watched as Parker opened the glove box and pulled out a full jar of Vaseline. With a nod and knowing smirk, Avery looked proud of herself. "I'm on point. Never go to a beat down unprepared."

"I'm not gonna fight him, Avery. I've got more class than that." She looked out of the window and sighed at the Delaware state sign. "How the hell did you get to be so scrappy?"

Avery looked at Parker and rolled her eyes. "You try being the youngest and the only girl in the house with five brothers. Shit…you'd learn to be scrappy, too. Especially, with Tommy as a brother."

"But, Tommy's so sweet to you…"

"He is now, because I had to whip his ass." Just passing the state sign made Avery increase her speed; they were less than twenty miles away and if she hurried they would be there in no time. It was no sense in delaying John's ass whiping. The sooner that shit was over with the sooner she could make a move on Jeff Hardy. "I know you want to go there and talk, but this shit goes way beyond talking."

"Avery…" Parker interrupted whatever ignorant thing Avery was about to say. "I have no idea what I'm gonna say to him. But I do know it won't come to blows."

Rolling her eyes, Avery mumbled under her breath. "Yeah well, you handle it your way… I'll handle it mine."

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

John Cena took in a deep breath and stuffed his hands in his pockets. He knew as soon as he got to the table where his friends were already seated that he would have to hear the mouths. He didn't mean for the interview to come off the way it did.

He had gone in two weeks earlier to sit down with Howard Stern for that now infamous interview. For that man to be so scrawny, Stern was intimidating. Every single thing that John promised he wasn't going to talk about, Stern brought up. He was supposed to be promoting his DVD, not talk about his sex life. And it seemed like no matter how many questions he answered, Howard had twenty more. He was backed into a corner and the only way to get out was to divulge information that he wished he could have kept to himself.

John hadn't even confided in his best friend about the events of his night with Parker, so what sense did it make that he went on national radio and confessed to Howard Stern and the rest of the world? Some things should be kept private and being with Parker was one such thing. Not that he was embarrassed about sleeping with her; he really didn't think about that. It was the fact that there were some less than perfect things about her and he managed to tell the entire planet her secrets. He had said it himself, she was cool people; he didn't go there with the intention of embarrassing her. He wouldn't do anybody like that…not on purpose.

In his defense, he tried to get the interview edited. As soon as they were done, he asked Howard not to play that part on the air. Of course, he got a bunch of bullshit about how he signed a consent form and anything he said was permissible and it was up to Stern and his producers' discretion whether or not to use it. John even tried to rationalize that it the woman in question didn't agree to have her information put out in the open. But they countered with, "You didn't say her name, so we're not liable." There was nothing he could do. He had embarrassed himself, the company and Parker. And now he had to face the wrath as he slowly crossed the bar and stood behind the empty chair at the table his boys occupied.

Randy Orton lifted his eyes at John then brought them back down to his drink. Pissed didn't begin to describe what he was feeling; more like extreme disappointment. Randy and John argued ad nauseum, but in the end, they were always friends. It's just the way their relationship worked. Ten years worth of friendship had seen them at each other's throats, a few fist fights and some serious put downs and name calling. But never in the ten years that they had known each other, had Randy ever felt such frustration toward John.

John pulled out the chair and took a cautious seat. He rested his elbows on the table and let his eyes drift over to Randy's face. Involuntarily, he found himself clinching his jaws because Randy wouldn't make eye contact. They had been through shit before, but never to the point where Randy wouldn't even look at him. "Alright…say your peace."

Randy lifted his eyes and scoffed. "I ain't got shit to say to you." He removed himself from the table and made his way to the bar to get another drink.

John felt like shit. It was truly as bad as he thought it was. Turning his head to the others at the table he closed his eyes and shook his head.

"Well I do…that shit was fucked up." Jeff Hardy had always been the moral compass that everyone listened to. He wasn't preachy by any means, but he always seemed to have a well thought out perspective on the things around him. And for John to do what he did, went beyond what he considered to be acceptable behavior.

Charlie Haas smiled around his beer bottle. Taking a sip and sitting the bottle back on the table, he raised his brow toward Jeff. "That shit was funny." He turned his attention to John and raised his bottle in salute. "I wouldn't have told the world that I fucked a fat bitch, but more power to you."

Shelton Benjamin turned his body around to face his tag-team partner and long time friend. "You're just as big of an ass as he is."

"Oh, get the fuck outta here!" Charlie had just about enough of people acting like, that fat bitch, as he called Parker, should be getting special treatment because of her weight. "Don't even try to act like you would've fucked, Two Tons of Fun."

"What I would've done ain't the point. The point is, he shouldn't have gone on that fucking show and put it down like that."

Charlie was fed up. He slammed his hand down on the table and turned his head in disbelief. "So, because the Pillsbury Dough girl might have gotten her feelings hurt, y'all wanna act like that shit was wrong? That shit was funny. Just because she's fat, she got to be a fucking charity case? Fuck that… I laugh at anybody. I don't give a fuck."

"That's because you're an asshole." Jeff interrupted.

"Please…none of y'all would've fucked her. Why the fuck you think we made a bets on who would bang her?"

Shelton shrugged. "He still ain't have to take it that far."

John sat there silently, listening to his friends pass judgment on him. He didn't have a leg to stand on. He was wrong; what he did was wrong and he more than anyone, knew that.

"So now, you're trying to say that you would've fucked her? You's a fucking a lie." Charlie directed his question at Shelton.

"No…I wouldn't've." Shelton picked at the wrapper on his beer bottle to avoid the questioning eyes from the people at the table. "But not because of her weight. I'm just not into white girls."

Charlie sat back in his chair annoyed. "If that ain't about the most ignorant shit, I done ever heard. So if she was a fat black girl, you would've done her? That's fucking racist."

"Shut up, man! I ain't a fucking racist. I ain't attracted to white girls."

John watched as Randy took his seat and the way his lip twitched when he brought his beer bottle up to his mouth. Randy was pissed and John knew it. If there was one thing he hated more than constantly arguing with Randy, it was getting the silent treatment.

"And that makes you a fucking racist." Charlie finished, narrowing his eyes at Shelton.

"No it don't." Jeff looked around the table and summed up his friends. "Carly likes Hispanic women, Shelton likes black women, you like Jackie…I like women with dark hair, Cena likes the Barbie types and Orton likes pussy. It's a preference. It don't make him a racist."

Charlie disagreed, yet he missed the subtle hint in Jeff's words. "Yeah, but to say that he wouldn't fuck a girl because she was white… that's fucked up."

"Just like you wouldn't fuck a girl that was fat? How's that different? I don't think I could go out with an Asian girl, that don't mean I don't like all Asian women…it's just not what I'm use to. We like, what we like. And that don't make it wrong." Carly rationalized the situation quietly. Jeff's words made sense to him. He could appreciate John not feeling Parker, just not what he did. "You can't help it, if you ain't feeling somebody."

"And I didn't say I wouldn't ever fuck a white girl. I'm just not attracted to them." Shelton felt it necessary to explain himself to his friend. "They don't catch my eye right away. I don't really look twice if there's a crowd of them. That doesn't mean I don't like white girls because they're white. "

"Yeah well, I don't feel fat chicks." Charlie picked up his drink and held it to his lips. "I wouldn't fuck one, I don't like them…fuck 'em."

"Well at least you don't pretend to, then fuck them, then go on the fucking Howard Stern show and talk about it." Randy directed his comment to Charlie, but never took his eyes off of Cena. "You done some crut-ball shit before, but this…"

"So it's gonna be like that now?" John threw his hands and squared his shoulders at Randy. "Fuck it. I made a mistake; I tried to fix it and I can't. What the fuck you want me to do, Orton?" It was easier for John to take out his anger out on Randy then to accept full responsibility for it. "How would Randy fucking Orton handle this shit? I got Vince breathing down my neck, my fucking dad called me pissed…"

Randy shrugged. "I don't give a fuck!" He sat back in the chair with a satisfied smirk on his face. "We been boys for years and there ain't too much you can do to change that. You know most times, I got your back, no matter what. But, I ain't feeling you on this one. You're on your own." Randy stood from the table and drained the last of his beer. He kept his eyes pinned on the door and he let out a chuckle. "You did that girl greasy and if she whips your ass, so be it."

John's eyes followed Randy as he walked away from the table and settled on the two figures that Randy greeted at the door. Letting out a frustrated sigh and hanging his head down in shame, John could only utter one word under his breath. "Parker."

Lyrics to Creep by Radiohead used without permission.