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

door behind me and let out a sigh, knowing that this is just one step

Tomorrow, I’ll be headed to the cook-off, and

the real

on my face to calm myself, I look

I can still see myself: just Abby, the small

an army of amazing

I’m about to head back out to grab my

in the other room, and I

don’t understand, this is a serious competition. I’ve been

and I can’t afford

My ears

of accomplished chefs, who could she possibly be talking about? I tell

but then she says

complete non-factor. No, seriously, have you seen her

pause, as though he’s listening to someone,

like it’s about to pound out

she’s nothing but a fangirl with no

She’s nothing but a silly little homemaker who can barely cook

her male chefs—one

homeless man!”

the room gets thick; his words are a punch to

dominated by men, and being beaten

attacking not just me, but the essence of La

of their background, is part of

he so insensitively put it,

chefs

continues, his voice fading. “I’m not worried about

in the slightest…”

fades away. I can hear his shoes clicking

into nothing. Only then do I finally

knob with shaking hands, letting out a

out of the

feels like

and it’s as though I can still hear Daniel’s words

an awful, haunting

Fangirl. Amateur. Homemaker. Silly.

heart feels like it’s dropping into my stomach. How can