Chapter 1: I Got Kicked Out Again and I Forgot My Shoes

  I was brushing my teeth when I heard the knock.

  Not a polite one. Not even a frustrated knock.

  No — it was that knock. Three deep, echoing thuds against the doorframe, like a judge passing sentence on my masculinity.

  Thump. Thump. Thump.

  I spat into the sink and stared at my reflection in the mirror. My hair looked like a raccoon had slept in it. My jawline was trying its best, God bless it. There was toothpaste on my hoodie. My favorite hoodie. The one with the bleach stain near the hem. The one I bought during our honeymoon trip to—

  THUMP. THUMP.

  “Baby,” my wife called from the bedroom. “He’s knocking again.”

  “I know,” I muttered.

  “Do you want me to tell him you’re busy?”

  There was a pause. I thought about it.

  “Sure,” I called back. “Tell him I’m—”

  “He says he doesn’t care,” she interrupted before I could finish. “He says it’s Tuesday.”

  I rinsed my mouth, wiped my face with the towel, and headed toward the front door.

  Sure enough, standing there in the doorway like a Greek statue come to life — one that smirked too much and did too many bicep curls — was Chadriguez.

  No one knew if that was his real name. I didn’t want to ask. I was scared it might be his first name.

  “Yo,” he said, with a nod and a flex that wasn’t entirely necessary. His chest glistened. It was 7:42 in the morning.

  I stared. “It’s not even 8 yet.”

  “Early bird gets the wife,” he said, stepping aside. “You know the drill.”

  I crossed my arms. “I paid rent this month.”

  He nodded. “And you paid it well, my man. This house? Feels cozy. The water pressure? Immacute. Honestly, I’ve been meaning to ask what showerhead you use. It’s got this massaging setting—”

  “You used my shower?”

  He leaned in. “Your loofah is too soft, by the way. You gotta exfoliate harder, bro. Get that skin breathing.”

  I blinked twice, then looked over my shoulder. “Honey?”

  From the hallway, my wife peeked out. She had the nerve to wear my hoodie again. The one with the bleach stain. Her hair was up in that zy bun I always liked. Made her look like a snack. Not a full meal. A snack. The kind you crave at 2 a.m. and regret at 2:15.

  “Don’t be weird,” she said. “He was sore from leg day.”

  “Why does that involve my loofah?”

  She rolled her eyes. “Just go, okay? You always come back anyway.”

  “That’s because I live here.”

  “Technically.”

  I turned back to Chadriguez. He was stretching. Cracking his knuckles. Bouncing on the balls of his feet like this was a warm-up round. His skin shimmered. I refused to believe it was sweat. Probably coconut oil.

  I sighed, grabbed my old backpack from the coat hook, and slipped on my sneakers — one of which was wet for some reason. I didn’t ask. I didn’t want to know.

  As I stepped outside, my wife called after me.

  “Oh, babe?”

  I turned around slowly.

  “Can you bring back almond milk? Not the vanil kind. That one’s gross.”

  “I’m ctose intolerant,” I said.

  She blinked. “We’re not.”

  Right.

  The door closed behind me with a soft click. The lock turned. Deadbolt, too. Just for good measure.

  I stood there on the porch, hoodie half-zipped, bag slung over one shoulder, with the sun barely peeking over the rooftops. A neighbor’s dog barked once. A jogger passed by, gave me a nod. I nodded back.

  This was fine.

  I took a deep breath and started walking. Didn’t know where yet. Maybe the park. Maybe the alleyway behind Lorenzo’s Pizza where that one homeless guy swears there’s a dimensional rift. Maybe he’s right. I saw a slime monster crawl out of a storm drain once. Didn’t tell anyone. Didn’t seem worth the trouble.

  My phone buzzed.

  [Ly (Druid GF??): u up?]

  I stopped mid-step.

  The name lit up my screen like a curse. I hadn’t heard from Ly since that incident with the carnivorous ferns. She still owed me twenty silver pieces and half a favor.

  I typed back:

  [Me]: Always. What’s wrong this time?]

  [Ly]: Nothing. Just bored. Also a demon prince is resurrecting. You busy?]

  I sighed.

  [Me]: Kinda. Wife’s boyfriend kicked me out again.]

  [Ly]: LMAO. Tuesday?]

  [Me]: Tuesday.

  She sent a skull emoji. Then a map pin. Somewhere in the Eastern Wastes.

  [Ly]: Come if you want. Might be fun. Might die. But like, sexy-die.]

  I stared at the message, then looked down at my backpack. It had two grano bars, one half-charged power bank, a roll of duct tape, and some leftover kebab meat wrapped in a napkin.

  That was enough for at least one side quest.

  “Alright,” I muttered to no one in particur. “Let’s make this one count.”

  I tightened the straps on my bag, cracked my neck, and started walking east. Toward danger. Toward magic. Toward probably more horny nonsense.

  But mostly — away from home.

  Because it was Tuesday.

  And that meant it was adventure day.