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

a sigh, knowing that this is just one

I’ll be headed to the cook-off, and

the real

my face to

makeup still jars me, but I can still see

with an army of amazing friends

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

voice in the other room,

this is a serious competition. I’ve

I can’t afford to be distracted by—by

instantly: Daniel. My ears perk up. Amateurs? In a

who could she possibly be talking

eavesdrop, but then she says

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

he’s listening to someone, likely over the

about to pound out

nothing but a fangirl with no real experience.

silly little homemaker who can

without the help of her

homeless man!”

the room gets thick; his words are a

I am, in a field dominated by men, and being beaten down

the essence of

of their background, is

homeless man,’ as he so insensitively

gifted chefs I’ve

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

in the slightest…”

I can hear his shoes clicking on

then they fade into nothing. Only then do I finally turn

letting out

out

room, although it’s empty, feels like it’s shrinking. I

though I can still hear Daniel’s

like an awful, haunting

Fangirl. Amateur. Homemaker. Silly.

dropping into my stomach. How can