Apex

12 | adaptation

Syd tapped the side of his mug with a fork, securing our collective attention. "I thought we could all benefit from a good meal and airing out any dirty laundry that may meddle with the cohesiveness of our new wolf pack."

"In that case, I submitted the photos of the Black Swan to both the police department and The Seattle Chronicle," Maud announced, and I nearly choked on my coffee.

Syd had left me a dramatic yet thorough voicemail to tell me what happened at Providence Point, and I considered myself lucky to have not been a part of it. I wouldn't have gotten away with staying in the car with Syd, and I doubted I could've mediated any tension between Dakota and Maud. If anything, I might've amplified it.

"The person responsible is more likely to crack under pressure," Maud continued, drumming her fingers on the table. She was acting as though she hadn't just dropped an information bomb on us. "We can use the attention created by the press to our advantage. It's for the best."

The tension hovering over the table was nearly palpable, and I wouldn't be surprised if the roof suddenly caved in. I preferred to stay neutral; it kept my hands clean, but sometimes not taking a stand was just as detrimental as fighting for the wrong side.

Dakota's laugh was frigid as he looked at Maud with steady brown eyes. "Because whatever you do and say always is."

"And you only ever meant well, right?" Maud countered. "Going off to be this big star with this big new fancy TV show, but then expecting everything to be the same when you come back."

"We can't change the circumstances," I intervened before Dakota could respond to Maud. Both Nicki and Syd shot me an appreciative look. "If we want to find a way to work together, we'll just need to adapt."

"Well put," Brenna chirped and opened her menu with a flourish. "But can the airing of any other dirty laundry wait for, like, five minutes? I'm starving."

Thankfully, we all seemed to agree. Soft chatter from other tables drifted over to fill the tentative silence.

I exhaled a quiet sigh, wondering why teenagers consistently believed that they were better equipped to solve a mystery than trained professionals. I saw the appeal of hunting down the bad guys and appreciated the adrenaline rushes associated with taking risks, but it just wasn't rational. Why should we risk jeopardizing the success of the investigation or our reputations?

A waitress was quick to drop by the table and started with Nicki at the opposite end. I hadn't bothered to flip through the menu and listened as Syd negotiated with Brenna on why she should split another side of hashbrowns with him. Apparently, one wasn't enough.

"Are you ordering anything?" Dakota asked, his tone so casual that I almost didn't read into what I suspected he was really asking me. It had been the million-dollar question for nearly half a decade: are you going to eat?

I schooled my expression to be carefully neutral. "The vegetarian omelet."

He offered me a brief half-smile and opened his mouth to say something when the waitress politely interrupted to take his order along with my own. I doubted we would revisit the conversation. At least not today.

We suspended our discussion on Apex until the waitress returned with our food. I stabbed at my omelet, concentrating on not calculating the calories for all of the obvious reasons. I was desperate to uphold my belief that I was finally in control again.

"We should discuss the screenplay," Nicki started, pausing as he glanced between Dakota and Brenna. "I'm aware of the legal reasons why you shouldn't share the details, but we need to consider the possibility of another...incident."