There was the ride back from the Capital to the town at like, five and Tandy had crashed and slept through every alarm on her busted phone. Which meant she was late. Uber late. When she showed it was eleven thirty and she wore sloppy knit over blond and plaid and had a cup of to-go coffee in styrofoam. Maybe she shouldn't have stopped for the coffee but the lights weren't going to flip themselves.
"What's up?" It was like, a collection of dudes. There was a girl Tandy didn't know hanging out with a script and a guy, and Bea and Charlie who she did. She had a copy of the script rolled into a tube-like thing, stuffed in the pocket of her army-issue peacoat scavenged from a thrift store in Seattle.