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 my

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

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

beast. I feel as though the real fight

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

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

army of amazing friends behind

to head back out

the other

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

can’t afford to be distracted

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

could she possibly be talking about?

eavesdrop, but then she

No, seriously, have you seen her socalled ‘restaurant’? What a

he’s listening to someone, likely over

it’s about to pound out of my

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

nothing but a silly little homemaker who can barely

help of her male

homeless man!”

room gets thick; his words

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

not just me, but the essence

their background, is part

‘dirty homeless man,’ as he so insensitively put it, is one

chefs

his voice fading. “I’m not worried

in the slightest…”

Daniel’s voice fades away. I can

they fade into nothing. Only then do

knob with shaking hands, letting out a shuddering

out of the

like

as though I can still hear Daniel’s words

like an awful, haunting

Fangirl. Amateur. Homemaker. Silly.

it’s dropping into my stomach. How can a