This week that distraction had come in the form of a botched lunch delivery from Delightly that had sent Dru into a rage spiral the likes of which Amanda hadn’t seen in years. It had been the perfect storm of this cannot be happening. On a normal day, Amanda would order Dru’s lunch and meet the delivery person by Dru’s trailer right before the cast and crew were set to break. This time, though, the delivery had been late and they’d run into her as she was making her way across the lot.

They say in times of stress your senses are heightened and Dru being the stressed-out equivalent of a bloodhound somehow knew Delightly had sent the wrong thing. She’d ordered the carrot soup with a warm quinoa salad. Somehow Dru had clocked the package in the young woman’s hand as tomato soup and a sandwich before she’d even handed it over. Amanda watched in slow-motion horror as Dru snatched the bag out of her hand and confirmed that the order was wrong. What came next could only be described as a meltdown. Amanda didn’t want to think about the fucked-up things Dru had said over a simple mix-up.

To her credit the delivery person stuck up for herself, explaining that she was just the driver, but that just spurred Dru on. The poor woman was in tears, making a break for her car, way before Dru had run out of steam. She’d pulled out her phone and started to call Delightly, but Amanda had talked her off the ledge, offering to go herself and pick up the right order. Good thing they’d come in separate cars.

But by the time Amanda had arrived at Delightly the damage had been done. PJ had already been briefed on what had gone down by the poor delivery person, who was apparently still crying in the back.

“I cannot apologize enough,” Amanda said as she and the manager stood at the end of their vegan pastry display. His face was beet red and every vein above his shoulders was popping out. She had no idea how to fix this.

“You know you’re not the problem. It’s her! Every time she comes here she’s rude.”

“I know and I’m sorry.”

He reached for a bag on the shelf behind him stamped with the restaurant’s signature leaf in the shape of a heart.

“This is it.” He handed it over. The correct order.

“PJ—”

Amanda glanced over her shoulder on reflex as the door to Delightly opened again. The audience for this fiasco didn’t need to grow any bigger.

Of course this would be the day for Sam freaking Pleasant to come strolling in. He was with a white man in a very crisp suit and his assistant.