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

cold water on

me and let out a

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

the real

cool water on my face

jars me, but I can still see myself: just Abby, the

of

a few moments, I’m about to head back out to grab my things when

hear a voice in the other room, and

you don’t understand, this is a serious competition.

I can’t afford to

instantly: Daniel. My ears

accomplished chefs, who could she possibly be

to eavesdrop, but then she says

She’s a complete non-factor. No, seriously, have you seen her

pause, as though he’s listening to

feels like it’s about to pound out

with no real experience. You know what

but a silly little homemaker who can barely cook

help of her male chefs—one of whom is

homeless man!”

thick; his words are

am, in a field dominated by men, and being

but the

background, is part of a

homeless man,’ as he so insensitively

chefs I’ve ever

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

in the slightest…”

that, Daniel’s voice fades away. I can hear his shoes

floor, and then they fade into nothing. Only

knob with shaking hands, letting out a

step out of the

although it’s empty, feels like

as though I can still hear Daniel’s words

an awful, haunting

Fangirl. Amateur. Homemaker. Silly.

like it’s dropping into my stomach. How can a fellow