Disclaimer: I do not own, and would NEVER steal. Me mum raised me right.

Rating: PG-13.

"Mr. Bruno! Mr. Bruno!"

Logan Bruno straightened his tie and adjusted his black Tommy Hilfiger sports jacket, preparing to leave the New York Giants locker room. The Giants had played that evening, going into double overtime before finally losing, and Logan was exhausted- both physically and mentally. He squared his shoulders and prepared to meet the onslaught of ESPN reporters, squalling his name outside the door.

"Tough break, coach," he said, passing the older man in the hall on the way out.

He shrugged. "You win some, you lose some, kid. You know how life is in the NFL. Better get out there before there's a riot. Thanks for doing this broadcast for me, by the way. I'll send the rest of the boys out later."

Logan nodded and quickened his steps, pushing the door open with his fist. Almost immediately, he was nearly blinded by the flashes of light coming from every direction. Questions came twice as fast.

"Mr. Bruno, does this injury mean the end of the season?"

"Mr. Bruno, what does the coach have to say about this?"

"Mr. Bruno, what could this mean for your career?"

"Mr. Bruno, are you currently taking drugs?" What the hell? Logan thought.

"Mr. Bruno-!"

"Mr. Bruno...."

"OKAY! Okay! Okayokay," Logan yelled, raising his palms to the sky in a time-out gesture. "Quiet, please. First of all, my client Jimmy Hicks is injured, quite seriously. He's torn ligaments in both knees. The bad news is that he will not return this season. The good news is that doctors expect surgery to be completely successful. He'll be fine."

"But, Mr. Bruno-"

"Please, I have no further comments-"Logan began, but he might as well have kept that information to himself. Medics were wheeling Giants superstar Jimmy Hicks out of a side door, and into a waiting ambulance, the coach right behind him. The reporters immediately left Logan and swarmed the other two men, having him there with his hands in his pockets.

"……and I'm back in the woodwork." Logan shook his head, chuckled, and headed back towards the arena. Jimmy was going to have to handle this one on his own. There was no way under the sun that Logan was going to attempt to muscle his way through that crowd. "Hey, Leon!" he called, yelling at one of Jimmy's bodyguards.

"What?"

"Tell Jimmy I'll see him at the hospital in a few, all right?"

"Consider it done."

Logan turned and headed towards the parking lot, beginning to run. If he wasn't at the hospital to interview reporters, Jimmy would have his ass on platter. "Two games before the Super Bowl......Jesus," he muttered. Why did all the bad things have to happen to him before the freaking Super Bowl?

"Hey, JERRY! JERRY!"

A female's voice was screaming across the parking lot, testimony to a pretty darn good set of lungs. Logan ignored it.

"JERRY! Man, I know you heard me!" the woman was laughing now. No, not laughing. Cackling.

Logan quickened his steps even more, the hair on the back of his neck rising. Sheesh, the freaks they let wander about this place…….

That's when he felt two warm hands close over his eyes.

Screaming in a high-pitched voice that would come back to embarrass him later, he whirled around, preparing to hit his attacker.

"Oh Jerry! Jerry McGuire?" His attacker, a slender woman of average height in a black blazer and tight black boot-cut pants, was cracking up.

"Stevenson," Logan put his hands on his hips and shook his head in mock anger, but he couldn't keep the grin of his face. "You scared the hell out of me, woman."

Abby Stevenson was doubled over, holding her stomach, gasping for air, face hidden by a mass of tangled black ringlets. Her shoulders were shaking, and she straightened up, throwing back the shoulder-length curls. Her normally pearly skin was flushed with mirth. "You should have seen your face! Oh man….."

"Shut up." Logan couldn't help but laughing, though. Abby's laugh was always infectious. "You're crazy."

"No crazier than you."

"And you have got to stop calling me Jerry. I'm nothing like that pretty-boy sop in the movie."

"Please. You're a pretty-boy WASP who's a sports agent and who's love life sucks. No difference there that I can see, babe."

Logan rolled his eyes, but Abby was pretty much on the money. After high school, he had gone to Connecticut Sate on a baseball scholarship (after he got to highschool, it became obvious that he was much too slim to play competitive football), then gone on to the minor baseball leagues, where he played shortstop for four years. When it became obvious that he wasn't going to make it to the MLB, he went back to school, received his masters in business advertising, and became a sports agent- the man behind the scenes.

Now, at the age of twenty-eight, Logan was doing excellently, with clients ranging from fullback superstar Jimmy Hicks to Talia Sorokin, a fourteen-year old Russian-born girl who was taking the figure skating world by storm.  He loved his job- it enabled him to rub shoulders with the crème de la crème of the sports world, meeting men that had once been his heroes, attend sold-out, world famous sports events like the Olympics free of charge, and collect sports memorabilia to his heart's content.

Abby's voice broke into his thoughts. "So, Logan, can you get me an interview with him? C'mon, you owe me one."

He glanced sideways. "Look, Abby," he said rather primly, "I'm sure that Jimmy isn't up to seeing any reporters as of yet. I can't compromise my client's feelings for an interview. Plus, trust me. He's not the kind of guy you want to interview."

Abby smirked, both at his tone and at his words. "Please. There's nothing more that Jimmy likes than to cozy up to the camera. He'll be loving it.."

Logan exhaled loudly, but he was inclined to agree with her. "You have a point. He does love playing the victim."

"Plus, we could go for late dinner afterwards. When I saw you, I had to come over and say hi. I haven't seen you since the World Series in Atlanta."*

"Yeah. And I suppose getting an exclusive interview on the biggest sports story of the night had nothing to do with it, right?"

"Of course it didn't." Abby's matter-of-fact tone finally cracked him up completely. "All right, I guess you can come along with me to the hospital. Where are you parked?"

"Let me ride with you. I came in the van, and the other guys are over there taking pictures."

"Oh, all right." Logan opened the passenger side door of his silver Mustang for Abby, then eased himself into the driver's seat and peeled out of the parking lot. In less than an hour, they had reached Nassau Medical Center, in Long Island, and headed up to the front desk. "We're here to see Mr. Jimmy Hicks."

"And you are?"

"His sports agent, Logan Bruno. And this is my….assistant, Abigail Stevenson."

"Ah, yes, Mr. Bruno……he's been asking for you."

The two headed towards the private room reserved for Jimmy, and entered, after Logan sent a nurse in to make sure he wasn't in an embarrassing state. Jimmy was sitting on the bed dressed in a Giants t-shirt and sweats, his young, clean-shaven face a mess, both his knees taped up heavily. He sat bold upright when Logan entered the room. "Bruno! Thank God you're here!"

Logan immediately went over to the bed. "Howya feeling, buddy?"

"My life is over!"  Jimmy cried, throwing his hands up theatrically. "Not to mention my career. I could just die! They're prepping me for surgery in two HOURS!"

Good Lord, and I thought Shaq was a drama queen….."Your career is not over, Jimmy," Logan said soothingly, patting the twenty-one year old on the back. "The doctors'll fix you up fine. They say you'll be as good as new by next season."

"I tore ligaments in both knees, Logan! Both KNEES! Do you know what that means for a football player?"

"They say you'll be fine, Hicks. Let's look on the bright side, now." He passed Jimmy a tissue from a box on the bedside table, and he dabbed his eyes, then blew his nose loudly. Abby had retreated discreetly into the shadows, but it was too late. Jimmy had seen her.

"Bruno, who is that?"

Abby stepped forward quickly, walking right up to the bed, offering both her hand and a disarming smile. "Hi, I'm Abby, a friend of Logan's."

"Hi, Abby. I'm fucked. Nice to meet you."

Abby gave him a sympathetic look and sat right on the bedside chair, widening her dark eyes in pity. "I am so sorry, Mr. Hicks. Does it hurt very much?"

Jimmy chucked the sodden tissue right onto Logan's pressed Dockers and plastered his equivilant of a "macho" look on his face. "Not too much, babe. It's starting to feel better already."

Logan groaned inwardly. He was going to throw up if he had to witness one more of his promiscuous client's "macking" sessions, but Jimmy was already moving on. He arranged his hands so that last year's Super Bowl ring caught the light, a move Logan had seen many times before. "So, pretty lady, how does my man Logan know you?"

Abby chuckled. "We went to high school together."

"Oh yeah? He's a good sports agent, he always gives me what I require. Especially tonight."

"And what was that, if I might ask?" Abby asked flirtatiously, playing along.

"You, gorgeous."

She giggled- yes, giggled! and he laughed- well, snorted- a sound that made Logan's stomach churn slightly. Why did he have to endure this?

Abby was speaking again. "How did the injury happen, Mr. Hicks?"

"Call me Jimmy, baby."

"Okay. How'd it happen, Jimmy?"

"Weeellllll," Jimmy said,  "let's just say that the quarterback miscalculated the throw an threw right over my head. Innocent mistake, of course, but I ran backwards, caught it, fell, and now-" he gestured at his legs. "Andi won the game for the team, too."

"That's horrible!"

"I guess you could say so," he gave a long-suffering sigh and casually rested his right hand on Abby's thigh. Logan saw a muscle jerk in her cheek, but she said nothing. "I was pretty much screwed." Jimmy continued in his whiny voice.

"Wow," Abby said with appropriate reverence- and amazing calm, considering that he was still stroking her leg. The man had all the subtlety of a yowling she-cat. "The public should hear your story. You're so brave to admit that! And I'm sure your fans would want to know."

Jimmy chuckled modestly. "We-ell, babycakes……I guess I should, shouldn't I? Bruno!" he yelled, remembering his agent was still in the room, "why don't you let in a couple of reporters?"

Abby laid a restraining hand on his arm. "Actually, Jimmy," she said with another disarming smile, "I'm an ESPN reporter. Wouldn't it be easier just to ask a few questions for me than to let your room get swarmed with reporters that you don't even know?"

"You? A REPORTER?" Jimmy stared at her in disbelief for a minute; then he laughed. "Well damn, they get hotter every year! Sure, sweetie. Call in your camera crew- I'll answer a few questions for ya. Is it okay, Bruno?"

Logan nodded.

"and then I'll see you later, right?" he said to Abby with a wink.

Abby gave him her best double-dimpled action, sure that he would miss the sarcasm. "Maybe."

"All right. That's what I like to hear." He watched Abby stand to her feet and reach for her cell phone so she could call her crew, then reached out and slapped her lightly on the ass. "Do your thing, baby!"

She froze, and from the expression on her face, Logan thought she'd kill him right then and there. But she swallowed hard, and walked stiffly out the door. Logan followed her, stifling a laugh. Well, I warned her.

He reached her in the hall, where she was slamming her cell phone shut, presumably after calling her camera crew. "Like him much, babycakes?" he teased.

"Shut up. That man is disgusting. Oh, my God! What a….." and she went on to name several very creative adjectives to describe Jimmy, throwing in a few Yiddish ones to spice things up. When she finished, she was out of breath and Logan was sitting on the floor, laughing helplessly.

"Oh, shut up." She looked to where her camera crew was wheeling their equipment down the hall to his room. "I've got to go finish this interview."

"Shall I tell him you'll be by afterward?"

Abby just looked at him, and he actually backed up. Jesus. If looks could kill, he's be freaking creamated. "Sorry." He followed her meekly back to the room.

Logan sat and watched Abby as she conducted the interview, looking bright and animated on camera, asking questions, laughing at Jimmy's jokes, sitting on the side of his bed at one point to talk as the camera panned onto Jimmy's taped knees. She's a real pro, Logan thought admiringly.

After high school, Abby had made it to Connecticut State on a full-paid soccer scholarship, where Logan- and Kristy, for that matter- was also going to school, but had lost it during only her second season, after a severe injury that completely ended her career. Abby had been devastated at first, but in her usual winner-take-all fashion, had switched her major and graduated with a degree in media broadcasting and journalism. A lucky internship had led to a reporting job with ESPN, and now she was one of the sportscasters of the decade, believed to one day join the ranks of sports greats such as Marv Albert and the NFL great John Madden. Her crazy, fun-loving personality, clear voice and wild black hair had perfect chemistry with the camera, and she was now a sports media favorite- young, but a favorite. Her personality hadn't changed at all, though- she was still fun-loving, loud, and fiercely loyal to her family and friends.

After graduation, they had fallen out of touch for a while, but she and Logan were pretty close now, after meeting again at the Little League World series two years ago. They began constantly running into each other at almost every major sports event that housed one of Logan's clients, although their jobs were so different. Hitting it off almost immediately, they had actually flirted briefly with the idea of dating for a little while, then quickly shucked the idea. Both of them were way too wrapped up in their careers.

"Logan!" Logan shook himself awake, only to see the camera crew packing up. Abby was standing over him, grinning. "You slept through the whole thing. C'mon, and say goodbye to Jimmy- they're going to prep him for surgery now."

"That explains why you're smiling, I suppose," Logan said dryly, raking his fingers through his sandy hair. "Okay. Just give me a minute." He stood up, said goodbye to Jimmy, and headed for the door. Abby was in the hall, and the two headed to his car, then to a nearby diner.

Nearly an hour later, the two were sitting and chatting over a meal of burgers and fries- real ballpark food, Logan noted- and relaxing, not in a hurry to go anywhere. Abby was happy because she had her exclusive story, which was currently already on air (she'd forced the waiter to turn the TV to ESPN so that she could watch herself) and Logan was happy, because Jimmy's Nike endorsement wasn't dropping him, meaning that they both were getting paid. The two were talking about getting a hotel for the night when Logan's phone rang. He picked it up. "Hello?"

"Logan? Hi, it's Mary Anne."

"Hey! Mary Ah-unne," he drawled, bringing out his Kentucky accent full-force, which always made her laugh. "How's it going, lady? How's Cary?"

"Everything's great. How are you?"

"That's Mary Anne Retlin?" Abby leaned forward, over the table. "I haven't spoken to her in ages! Let me talk."

"Who's that, Logan? New girlfriend?" Mary Anne teased.

"Naw, it's just Abby. She wants to talk to you." He handed over his phone and signaled the waiter for the check. Abby was talking. "Oh, wow, are you serious? That'll be great! No, I didn't hear about it, but then I haven't been home in over a month…."

Logan half-listened to Abby's conversation as he finished off the food on both their plates. "Abby, my minutes!" he said, loudly enough for Mary Anne to hear.

Abby laughed. "Bye Mary Anne, I'll tell him." She hung up the phone.

"What's up?"

"Mary Anne said that SHS is throwing some kind of reunion in a few weeks, and she's planning a BSC get-together. She wants us both to come."

Logan chucked. "The BSC? Wow. That seems like years ago." He shook his head. "Call her back and tell her I'm in. I need a vacation."

"I agree- I could use a few lays off myself. Sometimes I think I'll hurl if I have to give one more list of stats. Besides, it'll be fun."

"True, true. Now I need to find somewhere to sleep, and I'll drop you off back at the studio. Let's get out of here."

MALLORY coming up next….Review review review!!

*(Hey, it could happen. Shoutout to the Braves!! Holla!!)