Chasing His Kickass Luna Back by Jane Above Story

Chatper 243

Abby

All I can do is watch, helpless, as Karl’s form recedes.

He’s being guided forcibly away by the firm hand of a security guard, and he’s

yelling something over the din of the crowd, the announcer, and the sounds of

cooking.

I can’t make out what he’s saying, but whatever it is, it’s frantic. But before I can

make sense of it, a microphone is suddenly shoved in my face, and the camera

blocks my view of Karl’s fading form.

“Abby, what’s happening? Does your sous chef often show such aggressive

behavior?” The announcer’s voice breaks through my train of thought, loud and

Enter title…

grating over the microphone. I feel frozen to my spot, unsure of what to do.

“I… Um… Excuse me,” I manage, pushing past the announcer and hurrying

toward the edge of the stage, toward where Karl and the security guard

disappeared to. But Mr. Thompson is already in my way, grabbing my arm and

yanking me out of the view of the camera.

“Abby, you can’t follow him,” Mr. Thompson hisses, his voice low. “Get back out

there.”

“But I need to—” I begin, but the words are cut off.

“No,” Mr. Thompson cuts in, his tone leaving no room for argument. “What you

need to do is finish your dish. This will be handled, don’t worry.”

“But Karl, he—”

he interrupts firmly.

stop. You must continue

“But I can’t cook without my sous chef,” I argue,

Daniel still has

Mr. Thompson retorts with a regretful shake

it’s not up to me. You

far from me now. It doesn’t feel

on my own. I need a sous chef.

that this is all okay,” I say. “He would never hurt anyone

This—this is a farce!”

have to pretend anything,” Mr. Thompson

for, isn’t it?

back at the station, at the unfinished dish lying on

eyes on the stage—all of it

is right; I can’t just abandon

to go back,” Mr.

concern. “You know Karl would

without him.”

eyes for a fleeting second, letting his words anchor me

Thompson is right,

say, though each word feels

won’t let this lie. Karl is many

one of them.”

Thompson says, squeezing my

Personally.”

whirl around and run back on stage, where the camera and the

for me all this

me from their booth. Daniel and his

right back at work. And the timer hasn’t paused for

already wasted several

as I dash past the camera and back to my station.

time bomb, a countdown

feel utterly helpless in

I make my way past Daniel’s station, I catch his

his sous chef cooking with one

with that knowing glint in his eyes,

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