The Champ's Daughter

Round 3

I was wicked amped first thing in the morning, barely able to catch any Z's knowing what was going to happen that day: I was going to Grandpa's gym where he was going to introduce me to his trainees and team. I couldn't wait to peep their reactions when they found out Johnny "Sting" Ray Legend's daughter was in the building!

As soon as we walked through the doors, all eyes were on me. People were whispering and pointing, their faces a mixture of surprise and excitement. Grandpa just grinned and walked me over to the ring, where he grabbed a pair of gloves.

"All right, kid, let's see whatcha got," he said, holding up the mitts. "But first, did I ever tell ya how ya daddy got his nickname?"

I shook my head, bouncing on my toes as I got into position, ready to soak up every drop of this story.

"Well, when Johnny first came to this very gym all those years ago beggin' me to train him, not a soul in this whole town would give the kid a real chance 'cause of his darka' skin. Damn shame how much senseless hate still clouded people's vision back then."

Grandpa paused, his brow furrowed as if he felt the sting of those prejudiced times all over again. But just as quickly, he shook it off and continued the story, raising the gloves for me to begin the punching.

"So I told Johnny I'd take him unda' my wing, but he'd have to earn the respect first. I held out my hand like this, no gloves or nothin', and told him to give me his best shot. I wanted to see if the kid really had the heart and guts to handle my coachin' style."

Grandpa leaned in close, his voice dropping to a whisper as I threw a combo at the gloves.

"Lemme tell ya, kid, ya fatha' can throw a hellava punch, even with his skinny frame! I can still feel the sting shootin' up my arm just thinkin' 'bout it. But you know what that told me, plain as day?"

I shook my head, hanging on Grandpa's every word as if it were gospel truth.

"In that moment, I saw the raw, untamed heart of a true fighta' beatin' in Johnny's chest," he said, his eyes flickering with nostalgic admiration. "Watchin' that kid pour his blood, sweat, and tears all ova' that canvas, day in and day out, masterin' the sweet science like his life depended on it? His perfect fightin' name practically wrote itself."

Grandpa grinned, his eyes flashing as he dropped the bomb. "Johnny 'Sting' Ray Jones! Now that's a name that fits like a glove for a young prospect with lightnin' fists and a warrior's spirit."

I froze in the middle of the punch, my eyebrows raised in confusion. "Hold up... Jones? I thought our last name was Legend."

The twinkle in Grandpa's eyes faded in an instant, his smile disappearing as if it had never been there. Instead, his face was clouded with something I couldn't quite read - uncertainty, hesitation, maybe even a little regret.

"Say... ya dad neva' told you that part of the backstory, kid?" He asked.

I just stared at him, my mind racing with a million questions I didn't even know where to start. What was Pops hiding from me about his past? And why had he never mentioned that Jones was his real last name?

But before I could open my mouth to demand answers, Grampy waved them away and forced a smile back on his face. "Ah, never mind all that old history. The important thing is that you're here now and you've got the same fire in your belly that your daddy had at your age. So let's stop talking and get back to work, okay?"

By the time we finished and headed home, I was exhausted in every way - physically, mentally, emotionally. But even as my body ached and my brain buzzed with all the new techniques I'd learned, I knew I couldn't rest until I got to the bottom of this mystery.