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

the door behind me and let out a sigh, knowing that

process. Tomorrow, I’ll be headed to the cook-off, and that will be an

beast. I feel as though the real fight has

cool water on my face to calm myself, I look up into

I can still see

army of amazing friends

to head back out to

voice in the other room, and I

understand, this is a serious competition. I’ve been

and I can’t afford to be distracted

the voice instantly: Daniel. My ears perk up.

could she possibly be talking about? I

to eavesdrop, but then

have you seen her

though he’s listening to someone,

feels like it’s about to pound out

fangirl with no real experience. You

nothing but a silly little homemaker who can

without the help of her male chefs—one of

homeless man!”

the room gets thick; his words are

dominated by men, and being beaten

the essence

is part of a

man,’ as he so

chefs I’ve

Daniel continues, his voice fading.

in the slightest…”

fades away. I can hear his shoes clicking on

fade into nothing. Only then do I finally

door knob with shaking hands, letting out a

step out

empty, feels like

it’s as though I can still

head like an awful, haunting

Fangirl. Amateur. Homemaker. Silly.

into my stomach. How can a fellow chef