Chapter 4: A Different Game
Savannah had never been a woman of violence. In fact, when she was asked to intervene in conflicts with any number of overbearing males in her workplace, she usually cited that she was a pacifist before going on with her business.
But that all changed when she entered her father’s gym.
As much of a pacifist as she was, Savannah would never forget the first time she saw her father fight. It had been just after her mother died, and she was barely eight. Her grandmother demanded that she stay home but her father plucked her from his mother’s grasp and told her he’d be damned if his daughter grew up anywhere but at his side.
And thus had begun her life of hanging out ringside, waiting to watch her father beat the ever-loving stuffing out of his opponent.
And he almost always did.
It had been a while since Savannah had been back to the gym, but after the morning she’d had, she practically flew there the moment she got out of the office. She didn’t know which was worse, dodging Theo’s questions about how it had gone all day, or avoiding Carthright’s smug grin when she couldn’t give him a projection of where things were going with their newest client. Either way, by the time five o’clock rolled around, Savannah felt firmly like sinking right into the ground and hibernating for the rest of forever.
The moment she stepped into the gym, however, all of that faded away.
Even though it was nearly seven in the evening, the place was packed with trainers and fighters alike, all going through their separate rituals. Men aged ten to fifty went at punching bags, set themselves through grueling stints of cardio and sparred with one another, their voices rising to the ceiling. Every two minutes or so, a fighter hit the mat in the practice rings with a loud thud that echoed throughout the gym.
Even as her father had risen to notoriety in the boxing world, this place always stayed the same. Same old, fraying mats, same smell of wood polish from after hours, and the same old faces.
Janet had been working the front desk since before Savannah was born - when her father had simply practiced at the gym instead of owning it. She was a permanent fixture for Savannah and all the other gym regulars - and simply seeing her face always had a calming effect upon the young woman. “How you doing today, Savvy?”
At her question, Savannah merely sighed. “Not the greatest. Tough day at work.”
“Well, nothing for that like letting off a little steam, right?”
Savannah’s lips turned up almost imperceptibly at the corners. “I guess so.” Janet smiled at her, reaching out to touch her cheek gently in reassurance.
“I’ll let your Dad know you’ve come.”
“Thanks, Janet.”
As she made her way into the gym, Savannah’s eyes were drawn, as they always were, to the innumerable news clippings and plaques on the wall. They detailed the course of her father’s fifteen year career for all of his students and gym patrons to see.
Tyrone Jones Smashes through First Five Matches
Hopeful Jones looking at Heavyweight Championship
Jones Works Way into World’s Top Ranking
Jones Defends Title for Third Year Running
Savannah remembered each of these vividly. It was, after all, she who had cut them from the paper to mount on the gym wall. For each and every article she added, her father told her that he didn’t need them. He would remember his history. Savannah had, of course, ignored him. If he was going to get the stuffing beat out of him at every opportunity, she was certainly going to record his successes.
It didn’t take long to find her father. He was in his office, though by the looks of things, he had just finished training
Despite being close to sixty Tyrone Jones still had to beat off his fair share of women. Savannah often had to suffer through the looks some of the older women in the neighborhood still shot her father, who, in truth, had the body of a man half his age. Tyrone took pride in his health and skill, and he constantly impressed upon his daughter that he wouldn’t stop fighting until he was on his deathbed.
If he kept on continuing the way he was, Savannah was fairly certain he would never die.
She grimaced at finding him shirtless and sweaty before sinking into the only chair in his cluttered office to wait for him to finish his phone call.
“You know,” the young woman ventured, the moment he hung up, “you should really clean this place up some.” It was only the hundredth time she’d suggested it over the past decade.
Her father merely rolled his eyes. “If I did that, how would I be able to find anything?”
“Well, you could try organization, like normal people.” Chuckling, Tyrone merely lifted the towel around his shoulders to mop away the moisture on his face.
“What the hell is that?”
Despite the shitty day on her shoulders, Savannah couldn’t help but smile. Her father had that effect on her.
There weren’t many women she knew who were raised by a single father. In fact, if anything, solo men raising children tended to have a bad rap. But after her mother had died, Savannah didn’t need anything else but her father. He’d been all the parent she ever needed.
Of course, he had to learn the ins and outs of femininity. There had been some embarrassments, some upsets, and plenty of apologies, on both their parts, but in the end - there was no one Savannah would rather have in her corner - literally or figuratively. “So who pissed in your coffee?”
At his question, Savannah immediately jerked upright, her expression guarded. “What do you mean?”
Her father smirked, his dark eyes kind. “You usually don’t come and see me on a weekday unless you’re thinking of beating someone up.”
He knew her far too well for her own good. With a sigh, Savannah ran her fingers through her loose curls. “I don’t think I could beat this guy up. He’d probably give you a run for your money, Dad.”
Frowning, Tyrone crossed his office to take a seat on the edge of a battered coffee table - the only clear space he could find. “Some unworthy boy botherin’ you, honey?”
Savannah snorted at his assumption. The man had been chasing off her prospective boyfriends for as long as she could remember. Even the bravest boys didn’t last long - not when your father was the former heavyweight boxing champion of the world. “No, Daddy. It’s not like that.” She chewed her lower lip anxiously as she thought about how to proceed. If it were any other man, she knew her father would be up in arms, regardless of whether he was pursuing her romantically or not. Torran’s very special position made things complicated.
“Well, spit it out so I can get him on the hit list, Savvy.”
Savannah’s returning smile was half-hearted. “They gave me Torran Maloney at work, and I met him this morning.” She watched her father’s eyes widen in shock and hurried on. “But he’s an asshole, Dad. All those rumors about him are completely true. He tried to get into my pants, and when it didn’t work, he insisted he didn’t need my help. I’ve never met an idiot that pompous in my entire life.”
With a sigh, Tyrone ran a hand through his buzzed, graying hair. “Well, I can’t say I’m that surprised.”
Savannah’s mouth fell open. “What the hell do you mean?”
“Well, baby, Torran’s reputation precedes him. He’s a good fighter, but I’d say most of it is dumb luck. And all that money is definitely luck.” His mouth turned downward in disapproval. “I feel like no one who got that fucking rich that quick can retain their humanity. If the man’s a prick, he’s a prick. Did you tell your boss he won’t work with you?”
Savannah groaned, covering her face with her hands. “That’s just it. I can’t. I’m pretty sure Carthright wants this assignment to do me in. It’s my first chance at managing a client solo, and he wants me to fail. I can’t look him in the face and tell him I only lasted a day, Dad.”
“Well, shit.” Her father scratched at the stubble coming in on his chin, his expression turning thoughtful. “I need to think about this.” With that, he turned back to his desk to grab his gloves.
Savannah caught the extra pair he threw at her almost carelessly. “I think better in the ring - and you might too.”
Standing, the young woman resolved herself to a late workout. She hadn’t come to the gym with the intent of sparring with her father, but, as Janet had suggested, it might clear her mind to let off some steam. “I’ll get to the locker room and change.”
When her father winked winningly at her, she smiled - a real one this time. “That’s my girl.”
It only took her ten minutes to change out of her work clothes and into a pair of shorts, a sports bra, and a loose tank top. When she walked out of the locker room, several of the guys practicing immediately began to hoot and holler like teenagers.
“Hey!” Tyrone barked protectively. “Keep your eyes off my baby, you fucking brutes. More punching less ogling.”
“Yes, coach!” The bark echoed through the gym and Savannah snickered, already in better spirits. It wasn’t like most of the guys here didn’t know that she was Tyrone Jones’ daughter, they just liked to see how much they could get away with.
Nimbly, Savannah slipped her gloves on before climbing into the practice ring where her father waited. He gave her barely a minute to stretch, warming up stiff muscles, before he lunged at her.
As it was a practice bout, Savannah knew he wouldn’t go for her face, but that didn’t mean she was any less cautious. She was, after all, fighting the former heavyweight champion of the world.
But she could always hold her own - her father had ensured that. However much of a pacifist Savannah might be, Tyrone had always impressed upon her the importance of being able to defend herself - and respect for a sport many believed relied simply on brute strength.
She dodged his first jab, spinning to deliver an uppercut that just grazed his jaw, and her father arched a brown in surprise. Savannah had surprised herself. She hadn’t been in the ring in weeks. She had surmised she might be out of practice.
But one lucky hit didn’t mean her father wasn’t going to put her through her paces.
Regardless of how she felt about her day, soon the only thing Savannah could concentrate on was avoiding her father’s lightning fast punches. Savannah dodged and ducked, her body slipping back into a familiar rhythm. From the time she was ten, she and her father had been here, every weekend. He’d knocked her over more times than she could count, and slowly, she had learned how to avoid him. How to anticipate where he would be next.
She had knowledge that most boxers in his league might have killed for at one point and time, but Savannah had never wanted to be a fighter. This, for her, was just another visit with her father.
Within five minutes, she was sweating bullets, doing everything she could to avoid being hit. A misstep, however, was inevitable. A blow to the side sent her stumbling back, and she struggling to regain her balance as her father came at her again. Savannah had almost forgotten how easy it was to lose herself in this - to fall into a rhythm. That was how your opponent got you.
The next time he hit her, Savannah hit back, popping him upside the jaw smartly.
She hadn’t noticed they had attracted a crowd until that moment, when everyone watching cheered. Tyrone laughed, coming at her even harder than before. This time, he didn’t stop until Savannah was on the ropes, struggling to catch her breath.
Spitting his mouthpiece into a glove, Tyrone’s expression turned concerned. “You alright, baby girl?”
In response, Savannah merely lifted her leg to deliver a roundhouse kick to his sternum that sent him back several feet as he grunted in shock.
“That,” he countered, once he had recovered, “Is definitely not legal in boxing.” Savannah grinned in triumph, spitting out her own mouthpiece. “You’ve taken a leaf out of your client’s book, I think.”
The comment was enough to make her grimace. “Jesus Christ, I hope not.”
“Let’s take five, honey.” Her father dipped his bulky frame under the ropes before helping her down as well. They settled on the edge of the ring with bottles of water to cool down. “So,” Tyrone mused gruffly. “No way you get out of taking this guy, huh?”
“Not if I want to survive with my pride and my career intact,” Savannah replied bitterly, before gulping at her water greedily.
“Well, seeing as how I can’t take him out for you,” her father paused for a moment, eying her suspiciously, “you aren’t sleeping with him, are you?”
“Daddy!” Savannah’s face bloomed scarlet. “No. Hell no.”
But the moment he’d mentioned it, the image rose to the forefront of her mind, completely unbidden. If the man wasn’t such an insufferable jackass, it would be hard to deny his attentions.
Torran Maloney was, without a doubt, breathtakingly gorgeous. And not in the male-model, super-beautiful way that so many modern women craved. Every inch of him was hard and unyielding. His face was sharp, the layer of auburn stubble over his cheeks and chin lending him an even more rugged air. Those blue eyes of his were piercing, even as they mocked her; and there was no doubting that, at 6 and a half feet and almost three hundred pounds of pure muscle, he certainly had an intimidating and hyper-masculine presence. If Savannah was the type of woman to fantasize about men in her spare time, Torran would definitely be the type she dreamed about.
Unfortunately, she was too busy getting ahead in life to spare much thought to getting laid.
“Well, as long as there isn’t any hanky panky involved,” Savannah shot her father a warning glare as he continued, “I would say the best way to handle him is to meet him on his level.”
Savannah arched a brow in immediate confusion. “I don’t follow.”
Chuckling, Tyrone shook his head. “Man’s a fighter, baby. He was a fighter before he ever started doing it on television, and he was a fighter long before they put all that money in his hands. If there’s anything I taught my baby girl to do well, it’s dealing with fighters.” He squeezed her shoulder reassuringly as Savannah glowed at the compliment.
Her father’s words served to banish some of the uncertainty that had been clouding her thoughts and allowed her to think straight for the first time all day.
He was right.
Ever since her father began teaching her to fight, she’d become a stronger person. He taught her skills that she could use not only in the ring, but in life itself. Already, Savannah had shown her independence by refusing to live off her father’s reputation. Whereas he was recognized by sight almost wherever he went, few people even knew that she was related to him. Once she moved out, she refused to take his money anymore and did her best to make a name for herself in her own right. Even if she hadn’t made it yet, she had to be proud that she’d at least gotten this far.
Torran Maloney. Torran fucking Maloney.
He might be an asshole, but if she could get him to work with her, they would both be better off. It was a mutually beneficial arrangement - she just had to make him see it.
And she would find a way. If she didn’t, what the hell did that say about her?
Filled with new confidence, Savannah sprang to her feet. “Thanks, Daddy.” When she grabbed her gloves, he arched a brow, his smile teasing.
“Guess that means you don’t want me to finish beating your ass.”
Savannah stuck her tongue out at him playfully. “Don’t be mad because you were losing.” She was probably the only one in the world he would willingly lose to - and that was no small honor.
As she headed back to the locker room, Savannah began thinking of her next plan of attack. Speak Torran’s language?
She’d speak it alright. By the time she was through talking, he wouldn’t be able to hear anything else - not even the roaring of his impressively oversized ego.