Chasing His Kickass Luna Back Chapter 118

Abby

“Excuse me, I don’t mean to interrupt,” I say, offering ‘Alex’ a tense smile as I walk up to her and Anton. “I just need to speak with Anton for a moment.”

“Um, sure,” Alex says, scribbling something else on her notepad. “Take your time.”

Throwing her another grin, I snatch Anton by the arm and signal for Karl to follow. I lead them to a secluded corner of the kitchen, away from the prying ears of the mysterious ‘journalist’. My heart pounds in my chest.

“Is everything okay, Abby?” Anton asks, looking a little pale. “I hope I did not say the wrong things—”

“No, Anton, you were great,” I whisper, glancing over my shoulder at Alex, who is staring at the dishwasher and scribbling furiously on her notepad. “It’s the ‘journalist’. She’s a fake.”

“A fake?” Anton asks.

Karl takes out his phone and scrolls through it rapidly. “Hang on. Let me check something real quick.” He takes the slip of paper from my hand where he had scribbled Alex’s number earlier. His eyes dart between his phone screen and the paper for a few moments, his face slowly losing even more of its color.

“Oh, god. This isn’t good.”

“What? What’s not good?” Anton’s eyes are practically saucers now.

Karl looks mortified. “The number I gave you, Abby, isn’t the real Alex’s number. It’s a fake.”

“What? How can that be?” I can feel the tension knotting up in my stomach, making me feel almost sick.

“I’m so stupid. I must have clicked the wrong link,” Karl confesses, showing us his phone screen where a website that looks eerily similar to a locally renowned journalism site is displayed. “I found the number here. It looks like the real site, doesn’t it?”

I squint at the screen. “Yeah, it does. But if there’s a real Alex out there, then who the hell is she?”

Karl sighs deeply, running his fingers through his hair. “From the looks of it, this site is for a tabloid that poses as a legitimate news source. They’ve duped us. They’re going to write something terrible, I just know it.”

“Merde!” Anton mutters under his breath, visibly anxious. “What do we do now?”

Karl looks at me, concern etching lines into his face. “I’m so sorry, Abby. I didn’t mean for this to happen.”

I take a deep breath, releasing it slowly as I look into Karl’s apologetic eyes.”It’s not your fault, Karl. It was an honest mistake. Anyone could’ve been tricked by that fake site.”

He nods, still not relieved. “What’s the plan, then? If we kick her out now, it’ll be even worse for us. She’ll just write that you kick out journalists who don’t ask the kind of questions you ‘like.’”

I lean against the wall, tapping my fingers on my arm as I think. “Yeah, I know. And in the court of public opinion, perception is reality.”

Anton chimes in, “So we are stuck between a rock and a hard place? Is that it?”

“Not necessarily,” I say, my mind starting to churn with an idea, a dangerous glint of something like hope flickering in my eyes. “I think I have an idea. Come on, let’s call the staff for an emergency meeting.”

I motion to Daisy, Chloe, Karl, John, Ethan, and Anton to follow me to a secluded corner of the bustling restaurant, far enough away from prying eyes and eavesdropping ears. The tension is thick, no doubt because everyone has picked up on Alex’s strange ‘journalism’ habits.

“Okay, listen up,” I start, my voice lowered to a conspiratorial whisper. “We’ve got a situation. That journalist, ‘Alex’? She’s not legit.”

Chloe raises an eyebrow. “What do you mean ‘not legit’?”

“I mean that she’s a fake,” I say, stealing a glance at Karl who nods apologetically. “Karl got duped by a sketchy website. She’s not from where she says she’s from; she’s actually from a tabloid that specializes in trash.”

Daisy clenches her fists. “Ugh, I knew something was off about her.”

Chloe rubs her temples. “So what’s the plan, Abby? We can’t just kick her out.”

“Yeah,” Ethan adds. “We don’t need another PR nightmare right now.”

“Oh, don’t worry,” I say, a sly smile crossing my face. “I’ve got an idea. We’re going to answer her questions, but we’ll do it in the most ridiculous way possible. Let’s make her article an absolute circus. If she wants to write trash, then that’s exactly what she’ll get.”

John grins. “I’m liking where this is going already.”

Karl looks worried but intrigued. “You sure about this, Abby?” he murmurs.

“As sure as I am that the Earth is flat,” I say with a wink, setting the tone for the evening’s… theatrics.

Daisy starts to giggle. “Oh, this is going to be fun.”

We disperse back to our stations, armed with our roles in this little farce. The tension transforms into electrifying excitement.

Alex finally emerges from the kitchen with a baffled look on her face, her pen still poised to write. She beelines for Karl next, who is pretending to scrub the wall with a sponge.

“What are you doing?” she asks, eyeing him suspiciously.

He shrugs as nonchalantly as ever. “Food fight accident. Can I help you?”

Alex narrows her eyes, but says nothing more about it. “So Karl, how does it feel to be part of Abby’s restaurant?” she asks, jotting notes down before he even answers.

Karl smiles. “Ah, you know, it’s like being a hamster on a disco ball. Spinning, but fabulous.”

I stifle a laugh into my napkin, pretending it’s a cough. Karl throws me a quick glance, his lips turning upwards into an almost imperceptible smirk.

Alex looks puzzled but presses on, turning to Chloe. “Chloe, can you describe Abby in three words?”

Chloe doesn’t miss a beat. “Humble space alien.”

Alex blinks, visibly confused but dutifully writes it down. She finally turns to me. “Abby, your friends and associates have quite unique perspectives about you and your work. Do you have any comments?”

“I’d say they’re spot on,” I reply, deadpan. “Although, the term ‘alien’ is a bit offensive. We on Mars prefer ‘extra-terrestrial.’”

Her pen pauses in the air. “Mars?”

“Oh, yes,” I nod. “The commute is a killer, but the low-gravity weekends are worth it.”

Alex finishes her scribbling, clearly baffled, before turning back to Daisy. “Okay… And, Daisy—”

Instead of answering, Daisy begins wildly making hand gestures, a grin plastered on her face.

“What is she—”

“Oh, she’s deaf,” John says, shrugging. “You didn’t know?”

Alex’s face pales. “Well, no. She was just talking to me a few minutes ago.”

“Ah, but her hearing aids fell into the toilet,” Anton chimes in. “It was quite a mess, actually.”

For a moment, Alex just stands there, pen hovering in mid-air above her notepad before acceptance begins to wash over her. Sighing in a resigned manner, she clicks her pen and slips it into her bag along with her notepad. “Well, thank you all for your time. This has been...enlightening.”

She heads for the exit, and I watch her leave. The moment the door closes behind her, we burst into laughter. Karl and Anton high-five. Daisy and Chloe hug. John and Ethan both double over with tears in their eyes.

I look around at my quirky, incredible team. “We did it,” I announce, my voice hoarse but triumphant.

Chloe slips behind the bar and fills several shot glasses with vodka, then raises her glass. “To Abby, the most innovative, alien—sorry, extra-terrestrial—we know.”