Chasing His Kickass Luna Back by Jane Above Story

Abby

Applause begins to ripple across the studio audience, but all I see is Karl, sitting

in the back, staring down at me. He’s wearing a blue surgical mask, but I know

it’s him. I can tell by his eyes, by the way that my wolf stirs ever so slightly just

from looking at him.

“Wow, Abby,” Sarah says, drawing me back to the present, back to the interview.

“That was lovely. Your staff must be really grateful to have you.”

I shake my head. “No. I’m lucky to have them.”

“Well, that’s all, folks,” Sarah says, turning back to face the crowd. “Everyone

give a big round of applause for Abby, the owner of La Belle Vie Bistro!”

Enter title…

Another wave of applause washes over the room, smattered with a few cheers.

The cameraman gives me my cue, and I stand, waving as I jog off stage. Once

backstage, the assistant from before gives me a nod and a thumbs-up, then

points for me to head back to the greenroom.

As I head down the hall to the greenroom, I feel like I’m floating on air. So that

was it; that was the interview. I did it!

The greenroom is a modest room, furnished with a couple of sofas, a coffee

table littered with fashion magazines, and a snack bar.

The walls are adorned with photos of previous guests who came on the show,

from famous musicians to local artists. There’s a bathroom in the back, and

feeling like I’ll be sick now from the nerves of it all, I head to the bathroom to

some cold water on

let out a

to the

though the real fight has

I splash some cool water on my face to calm myself,

can still

army of amazing

moments, I’m about to head back out to

a voice in the other room,

a serious competition.

afford

recognize the voice instantly: Daniel. My ears perk up. Amateurs?

who could she

but then she

seriously, have you seen her

pause, as though he’s listening

like it’s about to pound out of my

but a fangirl with no real experience. You know what

little homemaker who can barely

of her male chefs—one of

homeless man!”

air in the room gets thick; his words are a punch

am, in a field dominated by men,

attacking not just me, but the essence of La Belle

is part of

man,’ as he so insensitively put it, is one of

chefs

continues, his voice fading.

in the slightest…”

away. I can hear his shoes clicking

nothing. Only then do I

shaking hands, letting out a shuddering

step out

feels like

I can still hear Daniel’s words

head like an

Fangirl. Amateur. Homemaker. Silly.

it’s dropping into my