Page 3 of Cruel Honor

I’ve gotten myself into quite the predicament. Now, I just have to figure out how to get out of it.

I can’t marry anyone. I love to fuck women.Women, plural. If I got married, I’d have to be faithful. I mean … I wouldn’t have to be, but then I’d be a pretty shitty man.

Granted, I’m already a pretty shitty man.

I just can’t stop thinking about my father and how much he loved my mother. The respect he gave her. He never would’ve cheated on her.

If I got married to avoid marrying Tatiana, it would have to be to the perfect woman.

But how do I find her? And does she even exist?

EVIE

The vomit in the carpet does not ruin my day. Not when I’m surrounded by books.

Little Jackson, a four-year-old who comes to the library often with his parents, just left behind a sizable vomit stain on the carpet. Cleaning it up would be a job for one of the volunteers—they tend to get stuck with more grunt work.

But I do the cleaning myself.

I’m not going to subject any of the teenaged volunteers for this job. It’s inhumane in my eyes. I’ve been working at the New York PublicLibrary since I was sixteen years old, but I’ve been volunteering since I was fourteen. At twenty, I work part time to help pay my way through school. Once I finish my degree, I’ll be able to be a full-time librarian, and that’s the dream. The pay is terrible, but if I get to be around books all day, then nothing could be better.

Not even this vomit can bring me down.

“You didn’t have to do that,” Sally, one of the librarians, says as she walks by. “We have janitors. And volunteers.”

“I know. But I don’t want someone to have to walk by this. It won’t take me long to clean it up.”

“Fine. But tie your hair back at least. I don’t want to see you get any puke in it.”

I give her a kind smile as she walks away then pull my brown hair back into a bun. The librarians here have known me for a quarter of my life. We’re like family.

“God, that’s disgusting,” the familiar voice of my best friend says. Her high-heeled shoes are right in my face. “Who would do that?”

“A four-year-old,” I say, sitting back on my heels and wiping my forehead with the back of my arm.

Katya flashes me her mega-watt smile. “Of course. I can forgive it, then. But god knows that bums frequent this place. So, you never know.”

“You can’t call them bums,” I tell her. “Everyone is welcome here. Even people without money. The library is a free resource, after all.”

She rolls her eyes and plops down onto a seat in a private corner. The library has tons of little reading nooks everywhere. It makes everything cozier. I love it.

“So, when do you get off?” she asks.

“In an hour. But I have an essay to work on when I get back home.”

“Jeez, it’s never ending with you, isn’t it?”

“Well, you don’t work or go to school. Not all of us can be rich.”

“True. It pays to be me.”

Katya was born to be rich. With her long blonde hair and even longer legs and perfectly formed face, the universe just had to make her beautiful and wealthy. I’m not jealous, though. I learned a longtime ago not to compare myself to anyone. Going to a private boarding school as a scholarship student taught me to love myself. If I didn’t learn that lesson, I would’ve been miserable at school. Fortunately, Katya took me under her wing, and we’ve been best friends ever since.

“Follow me.” I head to the restroom with my bucket and rag. Katya makes a disgusted face but comes along without complaint.

“So, why are you here?” I ask as I pour the soapy water down the toilet.

“Can’t I check in with my bestie?”

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