A/N: Hey guys! It's been a while, I know. Classes are hectic, but still fun and what not. But anyway, here's the next chapter. It's really short compared to my recent chapters, but there's some important stuff here. Thanks for all the reviews, and have fun reading!

Pinky Promise

Chapter 12: Uh-Oh

Gym, promo, show, autograph signing, promo, gym, show… So this was the life of a wrestler, and Bianca was having a blast. Since Seattle, they had traveled to six different places in the span of three weeks. Aside from all the shows and promos, John still found the time to take her places and have fun; there was never a dull moment with him. Just like the old days, but even better.

Bianca slumped onto the bed in exhaustion, numerous shopping bags on either side of her. The day was still young in Phoenix, Arizona, but she was already tired. "Was it really necessary to buy all of those jerseys?" she peeked through all the bags surrounding her; most of them were John's and most came from the same store.

"Of course, Bianca," John smirked at her. "Was it really necessary for you to buy all of those shoes?" He teased.

"FYI," Bianca stated matter-of-factly, "you were the one who said I needed new shoes. You were the one who told me we couldn't leave the store until I found a pair. And you were the one who offered to pay for them. It was all you." The expression on her face softened into a grateful smile. "And I love my new shoes," she walked up to him and wrapped her arms around his neck, giving him a quick peck on the lips. "Thank you, Johnny."

John beamed at her. "You're welcome, Binxie," he replied. "But did you really have to buy three pairs of the same shoe?"

Bianca scrunched her face. "They are not the same," she defended promptly. Removing herself from his arms, she headed over to the bed and dug through the bags, pulling out three boxes of shoes. She flipped open the cover of each box and motioned towards them with her hand. "See."

John snorted as he picked up a shoe. The one in his hand was completely black. He glanced down at the boxes to examine the other shoes. One was white, and the other pair was a dark blue. So they were different colors; big deal. To John, all chucks looked the same. "Whatever," John said, putting the shoe back.

"All your jerseys look the same," Bianca tried to turn the argument around on her fiancé.

John smirked. "Same team, different player," he answered smartly, and Bianca huffed.

"Fine, you win," she reluctantly said as she pouted and crossed her arms.

"Of course I win," John stated with arrogance. "I'm the champ."

Bianca rolled her eyes at him. "Go take a shower or something," she commanded, changing the subject. Besides, he had a show to do later that night.

"Yes ma'am!" John saluted her playfully before heading into the bathroom.

Bianca giggled softly and shook her head. As she heard the shower turn on, she decided to do John a favor and put away all his newly bought jerseys. She folded them neatly and placed them into his dresser. If you love jerseys so much, why don't you just make one for yourself? Bianca thought about it. She was a graphic designer after all. Maybe she could make something for him. Maybe.

Buzz buzz.. buzz buzz. Bianca felt her cell phone vibrating in her pocket and reached for it. Without looking at the screen, she answered it promptly. "Hello?"

"Hi sweetie!" Bianca froze. Uh-oh.

"Hey dad," Bianca tried to hide the nervousness in her voice.

"How's that vacation going? You coming home soon?" Larry asked over the phone.

"It's going great, dad. I've been doing a lot of fun stuff with John," she answered, purposefully ignoring the last question. She hoped her father wouldn't catch it.

"So when are you coming home?"

Bianca cringed, trying to think. "Umm, soon," she replied vaguely.

"Soon, huh," she heard her father say, and she couldn't tell if that was skepticism in his voice. "Well, you give us a call once you get back. Your mother misses you terribly."

"Sure thing," Bianca replied. "I miss you guys too."

"Okay, Bianca," her father started. "Tell John I said hi. Take care of yourself."

"Of course, dad." Bianca said her goodbyes to her father before hanging up the phone and sighing heavily.

"Who was that?" Bianca jumped slightly and turned to see John leaning against the bathroom doorframe in just a towel.

"It was my dad," she replied as John walked across the room towards the dresser. Throughout the three weeks, Bianca had gotten used to John walking around the room half naked.

"What'd he say?" John proceeded to dig through the dresser to find clothes RAW that night.

"Well," Bianca started. "He said hi, and he just wanted to know when I was going back home."

"Oh," John replied before straightening up to look at Bianca curiously. "When are you going home?"

Bianca shrugged. "I don't know."

"What about your job?" John questioned.

"What about my job?" Bianca replied, raising her eyebrows at him.

John simply shrugged. "Well, if you don't wanna go back, you don't have to," he told her jokingly, noticing the way her demeanor changed when he asked about it. "I want you to stay with me."

Bianca smiled slightly at him. Me too.

--

John slipped his shirt on just as the door to his locker room burst open. "'Sup, man?" The Legend Killer greeted him as he stepped through.

John grinned as he gave his friend a manly hug. "Hey, man. How was LA?" Randy was in SoCal for a few days doing signings and promos.

Randy smirked at him. "It was alright," he simply replied. He proceeded to tell John all about his grueling autograph signing and his tiresome promos. "Oh, and I also did some investigative work," he said last.

John raised an eyebrow at him. "Investigative work?"

Randy nodded proudly. "Yeah."

--

-Flashback-
Randy skimmed through the LA Times, looking for a familiar name. But he found none. "That's odd," he said to himself, smirking at the paper. He looked up at the building in front of him and nodded at it. Detective Randy, at your service.

"Good afternoon, can I help you with anything?" Randy flashed a grin at the receptionist, who brightened immediately once she recognized the former Heavyweight Champ.

"Yes," Randy started. "I was wondering if I could speak to one of the editors. I have a few questions about this paper." He pointed his finger at the newspaper in his hand.

It was against protocol to let just anyone talk with the editor, but the receptionist was so struck by Randy that she was going to do anything just to keep him there longer. "Well, I'm not allowed to let just anyone see the editor," she trailed off.

"But?" Randy quirked his eyebrow at her, silently flirting with her.

"But if you give me an autograph, I could let you in," the receptionist shyly replied.

Randy smirked. "Deal."


--

"Come in!" Randy heard a gruff voice yell out on the other side of the door, and he let himself into the main editor's office. "Who the hell are you?" There was a large, burly man seated at the desk, and he did not look happy at all. "You're not supposed to be back here."

"Your receptionist let me in," Randy said. Before the large man could kick him out, he raised his hands in defense. "Look, sir, I just have a few questions to ask." The large man said nothing and only frowned at him. "I just wanted to know why Bianca Evans' articles aren't published?"

"Bianca Evans?" The editor looked at him oddly before snorting loudly. "Bianca Evans no longer works for us."

"Oh really?" Randy asked with all interest. "Why? Was she fired? Did she quit?"

"I can't disclose that information to you," the man said professionally. "But she doesn't work here anymore. Hasn't been for a little less than a month."

"I see," Randy nodded. "Thank you for your time, sir," he said before heading out the door.
-end flashback-

--

John Cena sat back on the bench, running a hand over his mouth in thought. Randy wouldn't make this up; it was too serious of an issue.

"I told you," Randy said. "She's been lying to you this whole time."

"No," John shook his head, refusing to believe it. "There has to be an explanation."

Randy sighed in frustration. "Dude, she lied to your face about her job. I talked to the guy; I got the proof." Why was it so hard to believe that Bianca was a liar? Was John that much into her that he refused to see the truth?

"I need to see for myself," John said, getting up and heading towards the door.

"Whatever, man," Randy said, shaking his head. "But what are you gonna do when you find out that I'm right?"

John said nothing in reply as he walked out the door, leaving the Legend Killer to himself. There had to be an explanation. There just had to be.

--

A/N: Review?