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

water on

a sigh,

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

the real fight has only

my face to calm myself, I

but I can still see myself: just Abby, the

with an army of

moments, I’m about to head back out to

in the other room,

is a serious competition. I’ve

I can’t afford

Daniel. My ears perk up. Amateurs?

could she possibly be

but

have you seen her socalled ‘restaurant’? What a

as though he’s listening to someone, likely

feels like it’s about to pound

she’s nothing but a fangirl with no real experience.

silly little homemaker who can barely cook

without the help of her male chefs—one of whom is a

homeless man!”

the room gets thick; his words are

dominated by men,

but the essence of

background, is part

so insensitively put

gifted chefs

continues, his voice fading.

in the slightest…”

fades away. I can

nothing. Only

knob with shaking hands, letting out a shuddering

out

empty, feels like it’s shrinking.

can still hear Daniel’s words bouncing

an awful,

Fangirl. Amateur. Homemaker. Silly.

dropping into my stomach.