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could somehow be friends, but maybe that would come with time. Besides, they’d both be too busy with their careers to fight all the time, surely?
    She closed her eyes and was surprised when the car stopped and her door opened. The driver helped her get her suitcase and handed her a plane ticket and a folded letter.
    “Enjoy your flight, Miss Shipton.”
    She took the documents and wandered into the terminal in a daze. Once she was inside the door, she glanced at the ticket, which was a one-way flight to Las Vegas. Tucking it behind the letter, she unfolded the sheet of paper, hoping to have some of her questions answered. Flowing script took up the whole A4 page, which was obviously for her.
     
    Dear Princess,
    During the contract negotiations, I failed to give you my address. I actually live in Las Vegas; since you agreed to live with me, that’s where you now live, too. Surprise! Use this ticket to fly to me and I’ll have a car pick you up at the airport.
    Happy flying,
    Fuckwit
     
    She felt a pang of disappointment that he wouldn’t be picking her up, himself, but she smiled at the last line. Even him calling himself that, however, didn’t help to alleviate her immediate and overwhelming fury with the dirty son-of-a-bitch.
    He’d known all along that she’d hate living in Vegas, since she’d have to commute for auditions and filming. Dammit, why hadn’t she thought to ask? She’d just assumed he lived in the Hollywood Hills somewhere, or maybe even out by Venice Beach. He seemed like he took care of himself physically, so she’d assumed he liked to surf or go for long runs on the boardwalk. She slammed her mind down on that thought immediately—it was best not to be giving any consideration to Jack Fawkner’s physique, especially right now, when she was pissed with him. She wanted to maintain that annoyance until she had a chance to give him a piece of her mind.
    For a split second, she considered not going. Just not taking the flight, and getting a cab back to the city. It was tempting, but she knew she wouldn’t do it. They had a contract, and she’d worked out that having Jack pick up all her living expenses meant that her money would last her at least another six months. That meant she now had twelve months up her sleeve to make her mark on this town.
    She’d need to recalculate that on the plane, now that she’d have to factor airfare into each audition, but it could still be managed. If she got noticed fast enough, maybe she could get the studio to pay for her flights for filming. She didn’t need much, and economy tickets from Vegas were cheap. A few months ago Charlotte had the overwhelming urge to explore the United States. She’d done some holiday research but had decided against spending the money. Now she’d get to see the Strip, anyway.
    I hope you’re ready to wine and dine me, Fuckwit.
     
    ***
     
    The car picked her up, as promised. The driver had held an iPad with her name on it—the first time that had ever happened to her. As she caught her first glimpse of Las Vegas, Charlotte realised it was a lot browner than she’d expected. The city seemed dusty, and the wall of brown mountains in the distance did nothing but add to the brown-ness.
    It’s brown, but wow, the colours in those mountains are beautiful.
    The limousine moved easily onto the highway and she noted the giant billboards promoting all kinds of services offered by lawyers. Get out of a drunk driving charge, or organise a bail bond. No doubt the lawyers made a killing here in Sin City.
    She could suddenly see the Strip in the distance, and she wished the driver would put the partition down and tell her about the area. It seemed like such a tiny strip of high-rise buildings, compared to how much space there was. She’d seen photos and video of Las Vegas, which had made it seem like it was huge. From what she could see now, it was a tiny, sparkling area surrounded by desert. She picked out the pyramid shape of Luxor