If the Shoe Fits (Meant To Be #1) by Julie Murphy

“I knew it.”

“So you and your dad were close?”

I nod, even though he can’t see me. “We only had each other. We were best friends. Now that I’m older, I miss those days when it was just us. I always remember how quiet it always was with just us, and then after he got married, there was always noise. The house felt full. Quiet was nice, but the noise was…comforting in a different way.”

“Like white noise,” he says softly. “Not in a bad way.”

“No, not at all.”

“Kind of like New York City.”

“Yes, I honestly have a hard time falling asleep if it’s not to the sound of sirens.”

“God, yes, I need my city noise. Except on my block it’s the doorman across the street saying, ‘Hey, boss,’ on repeat followed by honking horns.”

I chuckle. “Well, I didn’t have any doormen on my block, but I did have a bodega lady who communicated entirely in grunts. My roommate was fluent.”

For a moment there’s a lull, but it’s enough to remind me that we’re almost strangers.

“The family business,” I say. “Taking over must be stressful.”

“It’s…It’s difficult. Mom’s not ready to move on…I’m not ready to step in, but I’ve got a great team in place. There’s just…a lot.”

“Way to be vague,” I say with a laugh.

“Sorry,” he says knowingly. “I just have to be careful. Certain things get out…LuMac loses value, and anyway…”

“Is your mom okay? Can I ask that?”

“She’s alive,” he says tentatively. “I guess just not in a way that brings her joy. She’s having to let go of the things that made her…her. So, anyway, enough about me.”

No, I nearly say, more about you. If we were in the real world, I would want to unravel the inner workings of Henry Mackenzie slowly, savoring every layer.

“Shit. I gotta go,” he says. “I think I just saw someone up by the trucks. Talk again soon?”

“Promise?” I ask him.

But there’s no answer. I sit there for a moment longer, waiting for a response, but nothing. I shove the walkie-talkie in the pocket of my hoodie and stand up. Just as I’m about to walk back inside, Henry’s light flickers off and on twice in quick succession, and I can only hope it’s his secret way of telling me yes.

I close my eyes, and for just a moment I allow myself to imagine what it might be like to run my fingers along the edge of Henry’s jaw and kiss him good night.





The ten of us are led into a small, crowded boxing gym. The members of the audience are mostly fans of the show who have answered casting calls for extras. It’s hard not to see them whisper and point as we all settle into the front row. We’ve been instructed to dress for a ringside date night. Whatever that means.

Outside of the Rocky movies, I have next to no knowledge of boxing, but I figured I couldn’t go wrong in lace-up espadrilles and a black gingham romper.

Beck stands in the middle of the ring on a stepladder, shouting directions through a microphone. “Mallory—wave, Mallory!”

Behind her, Mallory waves limply.

“Mallory,” Beck continues, “will be your point of direction. If Mallory motions for you to cheer, you cheer. If she’s telling you to be quiet, I don’t want to hear you so much as breathe. You hear me?”

Stacy leans over and whispers, “Is it weird that bossy Beck is a turn-on?”

I laugh. “Don’t make me ship you two.”

On the other side of me, Anna abruptly announces, “I need to pee. Can a producer take me to pee?”

Mallory sighs and dutifully begins to climb under the ropes. On the way here, Wes gave us a very serious lecture about trying to talk to extras or anyone else we saw while we were out, and we were expressly told not to go anywhere alone.

“I got her,” says Zeke, jogging toward us. He helps Anna to her feet and guides her toward the restrooms.

Stacy groans. “Man, these people will not give us any breathing room. I feel like we’re on a leash.”

I nod. “They don’t want us finding out what’s actually going on in the real world or how we’re being portrayed. Do you ever feel like we’re a bunch of lab rats?” I ask.

She snorts. “Too real.”

After a few minutes, Anna hurries back, out of breath and a little sweaty. “Sorry, they made me go all the way out to the porta-potties. It took forever and it smelled gross.”

I sniff her hair. “You still smell like bubble gum, so at least there’s that.”

A super-ripped announcer dressed like a referee with tattoos running up and down his bulging arms takes the stage.

“That guy looks like a walking advertisement for steroids,” I whisper.

From a few feet away, Wes gives me a we-can-all-hear-you look.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” the referee/announcer says into a microphone hanging from the rafters, “my name is Tony Danger and I’ll be your MC and referee for the evening. Tonight, we’ve got two fierce competitors. First, though, I’d like to bring up my special guest, Henry Mackenzie, to introduce them.”

Mallory throws her arms up in the air, and the whole crowd cheers as Henry jogs up the aisle in a snug pair of jeans, a gray T-shirt, and a leather jacket.