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

“Good evening, everyone,” he says as Tony Danger steps aside. “And thanks, Tony.”

“You got it, man.”

“I would like to introduce you to two women who could single-handedly kick my ass, Druscilla the Destroyer and Holly GoBiteMe!” Henry steps aside and out of the ring to sit next to Addison at the end of our aisle.

Two women, both covered in tattoos and wearing padded headpieces, mouth guards, shin guards, tiny metallic spandex shorts, and matching sports bras, race down the aisles to cheers and boos as they bounce into the ring. A whole crew of hype people with water bottles and first-aid kits race behind them.

Anna leans over. “Is that guy rolling out a cart of pillows?”

Behind the women and their posses, there is indeed a scrawny-looking guy with a whole pile of pillows.

On the other side of Stacy, Sara Claire gasps. “Oh my Lord, is this an actual pillow fight?”

“Like a slumber party pillow fight?” I ask.

Stacy leans back and nods. “Some girls on my Roller Derby team do pillow fight matches during the off-season.”

“You play Roller Derby?” I ask.

Sara Claire shakes her head in awe. “Yeah, could you be any more badass?”

My eyes flick up to Sara Claire. It’s the first time since the elimination two nights ago that she and I have shared a conversation outside of the occasional excuse me and good night.

Anna’s jaw drops. “Is this pillow thing like some kind of weird internet thing?”

I choke on a laugh.

Stacy smiles widely. “I mean, I guess it could be.”

“Hell,” says Sara Claire, “people will pay for anything these days. You know, I worked with a client who was a state congresswoman, and she had to start cropping her feet out of photos because they kept popping up on websites dedicated to feet.”

Anna giggles, and then muses, “I bet there’s some good money in that.”

We spend the next thirty minutes watching two grown women beat the crap out of each other with pillows. I’m about as subtle as an elephant in a library as I try to catch glimpses of Henry sitting down at the end of the row next to Addison. She laughs way too loudly at everything he says and paws at him shamelessly. At least I’m not alone, though. With our numbers dwindling, every girl in this row is wondering if she’ll be next. After this, eliminations will only be one or two people at a time, but it’s impossible to feel safe, especially after knowing I was so close to the chopping block the other night.

With every glance in Henry’s direction, I hope for some sort of nod or smile—some kind of sign that tells me I didn’t make up our late-night/early-morning conversation.

I guess my brush with elimination and talking to Henry made me sure of one thing: I want to be here. And it’s not just for the money or the connections. That terrifies me, but it’s true.

Feathers fly, drifting slowly down as the two women in the ring absolutely wallop each other. In the end, Holly GoBiteMe lands the final blow and drops down onto Druscilla the Destroyer, pinning her to the mat.

“We’ve got our winner,” Tony Danger calls as he pumps Holly’s fist into the air. “Now it’s time for a little bit of audience participation.” He looks to all of us in the front row. “Ladies, any volunteers? Which of you will fight for Henry’s love?”

We all look from one to another, and I get the feeling that no one is too eager to take on this challenge.

Suddenly Addison bolts to her feet.

Maybe it’s the adrenaline from just having watched two grown women beat each other senseless with pillows, or maybe it’s the memory of what Beck told me last night about how much people are really rallying around me, or maybe it’s simply Henry, but whatever it is, I’m on my feet and challenging Addison before any other woman can even raise her hand.

“We’ve got our challengers!” Tony echoes into the microphone.

“Cut!” someone shouts.

Before I know what’s happening, Zeke and Mallory are ushering Addison and me outside to where the trailers are parked. I glance over my shoulder to see Anna holding up two thumbs, and Henry watching us with a furrowed brow.

Irina is waiting for us in a dressing room trailer with a rack of nightgowns and lingerie.

“Really?” I ask.

She shrugs. “If you’re going to have a pillow fight, you should at least wear a nightie.” Swiping through the rack with discernment, she hands Addison something to try on, and after some frustration and a few grunts, she hands me—

“A housedress?” I ask. “Really?” I’m talking a long floral housedress with snap buttons and pockets on the front. Now, I’m a human girl, so of course I appreciate pockets on a dress, but every other thing on this rack is cute and sexy. I can’t walk out there in this muumuu (which I’m pretty sure still has crumbs in the pockets from the last person who wore it) and expect to win against Addison. This isn’t just about who can take who out. This is about who can charm the crowd and, subsequently, Henry.

Addison emerges from behind the dressing curtain in a pink silk pajama set with black piping around the legs, arms, and collar. The top is buttoned down low enough to show just a hint of her lace bra, and the shorts show the very bottom of her ass cheek. To be honest, it’s more skin than I would want to show, but how is there not any middle ground between sexy silk pajamas that you wouldn’t actually want to sleep in and your grandmother’s favorite muumuu?