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Chapter 1
Emma’s Journey
"You seriously can't dothis to me, Bianca. This is below low, even for you." Emma hated the hint of fear heard in her voice. She'd be damned if she was going to let her travel companion know how freaked out she was at the thought of making her way home by herself.
"I swear. You're acting as if you haven't lived here for the last semester. You've been to Paris twice with me. This should be a piece of cake for you by now." The mocking laughter thrown back in her face replaced Emma's fear with anger.
"You promised me. I told you from the beginning that I didn't speak any French. You swore you'd stick with me to help me travel!"
"You've been here for five months. I can't help it if you're incapable of learning a foreign language."
Emma took a deep breath and bit her tongue to keep from saying something she'd regret later. She should have known better than to trust Bianca to keep her word. She never had before, so why should today be different? Still, leaving your friend stranded in a foreign country where she didn't speak the language so you could run off for the weekend with a smooth talking Italian on a motorcycle was low even for Bianca. Then again, they weren't really friends, were they?
Emma decided to change tactics. "What do you know about this guy? What's his name again? Mario?"
"You're saying it wrong. It's Marrrio" she whined, rolling the R.
"Whatever. What about Pieter? Just last week, you were ready to move to France forever to stay with him."
Her friend got a distasteful look on her face. "Yeah, well Pieter showed me his true colors. He came clean with his women's lingerie fetish when I caught him trying on my panties."
Having seen Pieter, this information did not come as a surprise to Emma. In fact, it made a lot of sense. "Fine. Then why not go home to John? I know he'd take you back in a heartbeat."
"John's a boy. I'm ready for a man."
Emma couldn't stop the snort. "No offense. I've seen Mario and if he's not careful, his motorcycle is going to crush him like a bug. He's pretty skinny for aman."
Bianca's patience was coming to an end. "Not all of him is skinny, if you get my drift." The sly smile that accompanied her raunchy innuendo painted Bianca as the slut that she was. In spite of having a decent boyfriend waiting for her back in Wisconsin, Bianca had used the five months they'd been studying abroad in France to 'sow her wild oats' as she'd described it. Loosely translated, that meant she had slept with no less than six guys, and those were just the ones Emma knew about.
Looking into Bianca's eyes, Emma knew she was about to be deserted in Nice, a quaint town along the Mediterranean. She had two days to make her way to Paris in time to take her flight from Paris' Charles de Gaulle airport back home to Madison.
"Listen, this hotel is nice. Why don't you stay here, ditch your flight and I'll have Mario bring me back here in a few days and we'll go home together then? He's gonna take me over to Florence for a bit of shopping, but...." Bianca cut off abruptly. For the first time in the entire conversation, she appeared guilty.
"Florence. Seriously? The city I begged you to go with me to last month and you told me was a waste of time? That Florence?" Emma's normally patient demeanor was crumbling. Anger she'd been pushing down for months started to bubble up. A feeling akin to an exploding volcano uncharacteristically erupted from her and she found herself near screaming in the middle of the upscale hotel lobby.
"You really are a slutty bitch, you know that? You have a wonderful boyfriend waiting for you at home, but you decide to sleep your way across the continent instead. You want to expose yourself to every STD, have at it, but I thought you at least had enough decency to keep your word to me. I told you I didn't speak French and I was coming here to teach classes in English. More importantly, you know damn well I can't stay here and wait for you while you fuck your way across Europe. Some of us don't have a rich daddy who'll buy us another first class ticket home - or who will pay for expensive hotels instead of youth hostels like normal backpacking students. No. Some of us actually have to get back because we have that four-letter word. J-O-B-S. You know I start my TA job next week. I need the money. I can't miss it. So you go off to spend daddy's money in the city I wanted to go to, while I figure out how the hell to get myself home. All I ask is you do me one final favor."
Bianca at least had the decency to keep her mouth shut while guiltily shuffling her sandal-covered feet. Emma was shaking with emotion. She'd never gone off on anyone as she just had. For once in her life, she had stood up for herself and it felt fucking fantastic.
Emma wasn't proud of herself, but she spat the hateful words anyway. "The second you get home, drop my class because I don't want to have to look out into the lecture hall and see you sitting there, knowing the only reason you're there is because you think I'll give you an easy A. You should stick with your original game plan of sleeping with your professors for grades. That strategy appears to be working exceptionally well for you."
The surprise on Bianca's face as the insult hits home reminded Emma she was on new ground. She’d always been the steady friend. The brainiac, studious friend. The pretty, but plump friend. She despised being the friend who got to watch the purses back at the table while the sexy girls went out on the dance floor with the hot guys who asked them to dance.
Emma was sick of watching the purses.
Bianca reminded Emma that she had years of bitch practice on her. "You really are a cunt, Emma. I can't believe I thought you were my friend."
Emma counters, "Me? I'm not acting like a friend? Incredible. Your selfishness knows no bounds."
Bianca reached down to grab the handle of her expensive luggage, managing to get in the last word. "I was going to buy you a souvenir in Florence, but you can forget that now." And off she flounced towards the revolving front door where Mario with the rolling R waited holding a helmet. Emma smiled knowing how much Bianca would hate putting on the helmet because it would mash down the curls she had spent twenty minutes perfecting. She also wondered where Marrrio would strap Bianca’s oversized suitcase.
Once the object of her anger was out of sight, the reality of her situation closed in on Emma. She moved the few feet to the seating area on the fringe of the hotel lobby, and sank into the soft leather couch.
She would have loved to panic, but she was too cool-headed. Traveling alone without speaking fluent French was going to be stressful, but she'd managed to pick up enough to get by. She also knew she would be able to find people who spoke English to help her if she got into real trouble. It was more the principle of being stranded thousands of miles from home that had Emma upset. And that she continued to let shallow people like Bianca into her life.
She was about to stand to head to the elevator when two couples drew her attention as they approached. Emma sat back, trying to look casual as they strolled in her direction.
It didn't take long to figure out what had caught her eye. The couples were picture perfect. They looked as if they'd come from a photo shoot for the front of aLifestyles of the Rich and Famousmagazine.
