Page 72 of Tour Wars
The last time she’d been this weak had been two years ago, during her final confrontation with Vince, when he’d told her how little she meant to him. Back then, her heart had suffered. This time, it was her professional career. Irrevocably tarnished, all because Luca Roberti couldn’t handle rejection.
For a second, she imagined what would have happened if she’d followed a different path—one in which she’d responded favorably to Luca’s overtures. In this alternate scenario, she would have followed him to his room and submitted to him in bed. And pretended to enjoy it, just to make him happy.
No.
Never.
Even though she’d been kicked out of Pompeii, forced to leave in disgrace, she’dneverregret turning him down.
She took the stairs to the rooftop patio and sat on a bench in the sun, her teeth chattering, feeling like she’d never be warm again. She needed a plan. Staying in Ercolano was out of the question, but she didn’t know where to go.
With shaky hands, she texted Dusty with an SOS, hoping her friend would respond immediately. Since it was early morning in Boston, Dusty would probably be in her apartment, working on her illustrations.
When Emilia’s phone rang with a FaceTime call, she swiped her finger across the screen. Even if she looked a mess, she wanted to connect with Dusty face-to-face.
“Em?” Dusty said. “What happened? Are you okay?”
“Not really. Are you free to talk? Alone?” As much as Emilia respected Stuart, this wasn’t something she could share with him right now.
“Sure. Stuart left for the university an hour ago. He’s teaching an early morning Latin class. But…Olivia’s here. She’s in Boston for a symposium at Harvard. Is it okay if she listens in?”
Emilia nodded. Though she’d never been on a dig with Olivia, the two of them had bonded four years ago at a big conference, when they’d been the only Latinas in a panel filled with white male archaeologists. After the panel, they’d gone out for drinks and spent hours sharing stories. They’d stayed in touch ever since.
Olivia’s face appeared on the screen next to Dusty’s. “Hey, Em. Dusty and I were having coffee, but I’m totally cool with hiding out in the bedroom if you’d rather talk to her alone.”
“It’s okay. The more female solidarity, the better. I was totally fucked over, and…” Emilia’s voice caught. “It hurts so bad.”
“Do you need me to fly over there and punch someone out?” Dusty demanded. “Say the word, and I’ll do it. I’ve gotten way too domesticated living with Stuart. I could use a good brawl.”
Emilia laughed and wiped her eyes. “No punching. Not until after you hear my story. Do you have time to listen?” She was sure they had places to be, especially Olivia, but they both agreed.
She tried to condense her recap into a quick and dirty series of events, but even the short version was fairly long and involved a large cast of characters. As she recounted her experiences, her earlier shame vanished, replaced by a steadily growing rage. She’d pulled off that tour like a rock star. She deserved kudos and extra pay, not a kick in the ass.
Apparently, Dusty agreed because she was swearing a blue streak by the end of the story. “Those absolute dickheads. They’ve got no right to treat you like this. I’m going to burn them to the fucking ground.”
While the thought of Dusty barreling into Pompeii and taking on the Robertis made Emilia smile, the reality of her situation still stung like hell. “I feel like such a loser. When Dr. Roberti kicked me out of his office, I barely fought back.”
“Sounds to me like you did as much as you could,” Dusty said. “First of all, they totally blindsided you. Second, they held all the power. I’m just glad you told them to fuck off instead of slinking out in silence.”
“It probably didn’t help my cause,” Emilia muttered.
“Even if you’d accepted their decision gracefully, it wouldn’t have mattered,” Olivia said. “When you’re a woman in the field, sometimes the odds are stacked against you.”
Emilia nodded, appreciating the solidarity. “You’re right. And I shouldn’t waste any more emotional energy on those pricks. I need to make a plan. Since I don’t have a job—as an archaeologistora tour guide—I can’t afford to stay here. And…I can’t go home a failure.”
Shame washed over her as she imagined flying home to her father and explaining how she’d been wrongfully accused. He’d be furious on her behalf, but more than anything, he’d be sad and frustrated that he couldn’t help her.
“Then don’t go home,” Dusty said, pivoting from anger to excitement. “Since you’re halfway across Europe, why not go on to Egypt? You could stay with my mom at our family’s apartment in Cairo. When the dig season starts in January, I’ll bet she could find you a spot on an excavation. Wouldn’t you love to work in Egypt?”
The thought was tempting, especially since Dusty’s mom was a world-famous Egyptologist with a ton of connections in the field.
“I could also tap into my Turkish network,” Dusty added. “Even if the Troy dig is on hiatus until next summer, there’s usually lab work available at the Institute of Nautical Archaeology in Bodrum.”
“That’s a great idea,” Olivia said. “Rick and I worked there two years ago. I loved Bodrum. It’s right on the Aegean Sea, and it’s not that far from the ruins at Ephesus.”
While their suggestions sounded good—not just good but incredible—Emilia couldn’t summon her normal level of enthusiasm. Usually, she was always up for an adventure. A new dig site, a new crew, a new place to explore. But not anymore. Her confrontation with the Robertis had stripped away her armor, leaving her vulnerable. For the first time ever, she was afraid to take a chance on anything unknown.
“Thanks,” she said. “This is going to sound weak, but I don’t think either option’s going to work for me. Right now, I’m so tired of hustling. Of starting over somewhere new, trying to make it work, and hoping no one screws me over. I…” She paused, feeling even more like a failure. What was wrong with her? Why wasn’t she jumping at the chance to work in Egypt?
