Page 31 of Hell to Pay
“Oh, they aren’t gone,” I said. “The rind still contains the mites.”
“But you’re …” Ben swallowed.“Eatingthe rind.”
“Yes,” I said. “To enjoy the flavor. Here’s a fact you may find interesting. Only one firm is allowed to makeMilbenkäse,and it requires a special exemption from the food safety office, as the ordinances don’t explicitly permit live cheese mites or their digestive juices as additives.”
“All right,” Alix said. “I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear any of that.”
“IwishI could pretend I didn’t hear it,” Ben said. “I have mites in my stomach now.”
Alix’s phone chimed—how do young people ever concentrate, with those pings and rings and vibrations interrupting them all day and night? She looked at it and said, “Ashleigh’s here. Finally. But stuck at the front desk, because she’s wearing a T-shirt. Seriously?”
“Occasionally,” I said, “people prefer to dine with companions unencumbered by baseball caps, flip-flops, cargo shorts, and stained T-shirts. Odd, but there you are.”
Alix said, “Ah, there’s nothing like the comfort of a familiar refrain. Hang on. I’m going to get my good sweater for her. Good thing I have it, or we’d be raiding Oma’s wardrobe. Oh—if you’re tired of paying for her, Sebastian, I’ll do it. We’re feeding Ashleigh a fair amount, I realize.”
Sebastian said, “I think I’m good for a few more meals. Go on before your food gets too cold.”
Barely five minutes later, Ashleigh was sitting down with us. Or maybe “sitting” is the wrong word, as she was all but hopping up and down in her seat.
“Guys,” she said.“Guys.You’ll never believe it.”
“Should I leave while you tell?” I asked.
“What?” She blinked rapidly at me.
“As you’re telling the guys,” I said.
“Oh, ha-ha,” she said. “You guys—we’ve gone viral!”
“What?” Ben asked.“Sick.”
I said, “Somebody’s ill?”
“No, Oma,” Alix said. “You know what ‘viral’ means. It means something’s blown up online.”
“Oh,” I said. “Yes, I’ve heard of that. I was misled by the ‘sick’ comment.”
“Sick means great,” Ben informed me kindly. “Like, ‘Wow! How cool!’ Sick. Get it?”
“Yes,” I said, “although I believe I’ll refrain from addingthat to my vocabulary. My old-lady friends would be very confused. What’s blown up, exactly?” I asked Ashleigh.
“You,”she said. “I’ve only posted the first few bites—that’s what I call them, ‘bites,’ like ‘bite-sized’—just the first stuff about the missing tiara and your family’s royal history and all, and a teaser about the bombing, and …” She threw up her hands, puffed out her cheeks, and made a “bomb” noise, then stopped and said, “Whoops. Rethinking that reference. But the first video’s had—” She clicked on her phone and did some more seat-jumping. “Over sixty thousand views.Today.And it’s still going up like crazy. It’s the jewelry, is what it is, and the mystery. I’m going to go back after this and edit some more—oh, by the way, I did record you in the palace yesterday, Mrs. Stark. I know the lady said not to, but why does she get to say? You were the one talking! I put the audio against pictures of the jewelry and … whatever you call all that stuff in the vaults. Bling. Stuff. Whatever. And video of the palace, too.”
“I thought that wasn’t allowed, “Sebastian said mildly. “For commercial use.”
“So let them come after me,” Ashleigh said. “By the time they do, I’ll be on to something else, and anyway, I’ve hardly made any money yet, so how is it commercial? I really need to work more on the bombing story from last night—there’s actually a lot of material online, pictures of the aftermath, you know?—but I realized I hadn’t eaten since morning and I was really hungry, plus I wanted to tell you guys—uh, you people—so …”
“Have you slept?” I asked. Her hair was sticking up in various places, although nowadays, who knows? That could be a style. She was pale, though, and looking rather feverish.
“Not really,” she said. “I’ll crash after I do a couple more bites. Each one is a lot of work, but you can’t stop once you get attention. You don’t know how precious attention is. It’s,like, the most important currency now, and I’ve finally got it!”
Ben said, “Maybe I could help. I’m pretty good at computer stuff.”
“Seriously?” She blinked at him.
“Sure,” Ben said. “What else do I have to do besides eat German food with bugs in it and look at diamonds and hear about Nazis?”
“Awesome,” Ashleigh said, and did that palm-slapping thing with him that people do. Popularized by athletes, apparently. The United States might not have royalty, but athletes and film stars certainly fill that niche.
