Free Fools Paradise by Jennifer Stevenson Page A

for Wagner’s Ring Cycle.
    In a squeaky voice, he swore, “Fuckin’ Marty Dit, I am never coming down here again, fuckin’ candy store with a fuckin’ doberman is what she is, ow ow ow.”
    â€œI’m so sorry, Badger! The guys have been pushing me around all day and I—I kind of snapped. Oh, God, are you okay?” She wrung her hands.
    The stage door opened behind her and Badger stood up in a hurry, lounging against the wall like the biggest wolf in the Local, looking a bit strained.
    â€œYo, Mikey Ray. Weasel. Lon,” he said casually, nodding like he was the chairman of something.
    The guys eyed her and then Badger. Daisy sensed them withdrawing. An oh-fuck-she’s-Badger’s look was in their eyes.
    Weasel approached them with elaborate caution. Weasel had copped a feel of her butt on the rail this morning.
    â€œUh, how’s your first day at work goin’, Daisy?”
    â€œYou have a nerve asking me that,” she said calmly. Badger’s presence took the edge off her skittishness.
    â€œHe bother you, Daze?” Badger said in a higher-than-normal voice.
    Before she could say anything, Weasel had his hands in the air. “Whoa, whoa, I wouldn’t poach, Badger. Shit, she’s like your daughter practically.”
    Daisy made a face at this. To her surprise, Badger looked sour, too. She opened her mouth and, again, nobody was listening.
    Badger said, “She’s engaged to Bobbyjay Morton. She’s Marty Dit’s granddaughter. And—” he squeaked, and paused.
    Daisy gritted her teeth because now he was about to tell everybody how he spied on her for her grandfather and ruined her karaoke career and “advised” her about guys in his own special way and he’d tell them all and she couldn’t stand it.
    â€œâ€”And she just kicked me in the nuts. You got a fuckin’ death wish, Weasel?”
    Now the guys were looking at her. Finally. She tossed her hair over her shoulder and raised her chin at them, aware of her crop top rising over her bellybutton as she did so.
    The guys looked at each other and sidled away.
    Badger eyed her morosely. “I hope Bobbyjay Morton knows what he’s getting into.”
    â€œI suppose you’re going to tell him.”
    Badger moved toward her. He looked like forty miles of bad road. But oh, those eyes. The crinkles around his eyes got her pulse fluttering. In the light of day, next to the Opera House’s assortment of his brother stagehands, Daisy knew perfectly well that Badger was a wicked old roadie with more notches on his tool belt than any of them, including Ask-Me-Why-They-Call-Me-Weasel.
    Nevertheless, the fluttery pulse. Her tongue touched her lips.
    â€œDon’t break your grandfather’s heart, Daisy. I know he should have put you to work years ago. But Morton is his enemy and a fuckin’ moron. This is no way to punish him.”
    She almost told Badger everything, but three things stopped her. First, Burg the doorman stuck his head out the door and said the head electrician wanted her. Second, she thought of Goomba telling her she was too dumb for college and then practically siccing those stockbrokers on her. Three, she remembered Goomba pointing a gun at Bobbyjay and pulling the trigger.
    She lifted her chin. “He’s not a moron. And we’re engaged.”
    Badger sighed. He started to reach for her arm, but drew back warily. “Let me take you in. I’ll make sure the electrician leaves you alone.”
    She read him a lecture about using excessive influence on her behalf, all the way to the stage right rail.

    Meanwhile Bobbyjay Morton was taking a ribbing from Lon Murphry. “Kicked him in the balls. Badger Kenack! You better hope he don’t take it out of yours with interest, haw haw.”
    â€œWhat did Badger do to get kicked in the nuts?” Bobbyjay said, homing in on the important part.
    â€œWho the fuck knows? I