Free The Muse by Nicholas Matthews Page B

and Faith clutched his arm. 
                “What are you doing here?” Faith asked.  “Haven't you caused enough trouble for one night?”
                Calvin laughed.  He was handsome in a traditional way.  Blonde hair, broad shoulders, square jaw, unnaturally white teeth, and blue eyes.  He looked like he might have been cloned from an Abercrombie and Fitch catalog.  He was so saccharine it was nearly sickening.  He knew as much and seemed to thrive on his faux wholesomeness.   
                “I think you should go bother someone else,” Gibson said.  “We're not looking for any trouble.  The fact that you're here, however, obviously means that you are.”
                “And just who are you?” Calvin sneered.  “I don't remember calling for a valet, and I didn't think this building had a doorman.”
                “I'm the guy who is about the call the police and tell them you're the one responsible for that bruise on her cheek.”
                “I'm just a friend,” Calvin said, holding his hands up in mock horror.  “I would never lay a hand on this beautiful girl.  I'm certainly not the one who took her out on a date tonight.  A bruise like that is the kind that might come from a domestic dispute following just such an evening.  You know, the kind that might result from a jealous boyfriend finding out his girl has been cheating on him?”
                “Faith told me what happened,” Gibson protested.  “She told me what you did to her.  You disgust me!”   
                “She has been known to bend the truth,” Calvin said.  “Don’t believe anything she tells you.  It’s all fabrication.” 
                “I didn't lie about anything, you creep!” Faith shouted. 
                “Let me handle this,” Gibson said, stepping in front of her to confront Calvin face to face. 
                Calvin didn't seem threatened.  In fact, he seemed cool, aloof.  “I think you both should know that when a domestic violence complaint is placed to the police the male is usually the one to get hauled down to the station.  It’s a statistical fact.”
                “Is that meant to be a threat?” Gibson asked, standing his ground.
                “Just a word to the wise,” Calvin said.  “I'm in law school, you know?  Fascinating the kinds of things I've picked up there so far.  Made a lot of friends too.  Cop friends.  Friends who might investigate something based on my word alone.”
                “What do you want?” Faith asked, trading in a bit of her fear for frustration. 
                “Just to talk.  Nothing more.  Our conversation was cut a bit short.”
                “I don't have anything to say to you.  You're lucky that I don't report you.”
                “I still might,” Gibson said.  “This loser deserves to see the inside of a cell.  Maybe he could get a taste of his own medicine.”
                “I'm afraid that might not be the best idea at this point,” Calvin cautioned.  In the distance came the warble of police sirens.  “They're already on their way.  And with that said, I guess I should be on mine.”
                Like a man without a care in the world, Calvin stood up, brushed the seat of his pants off, and started down the sidewalk, leaving Gibson and Faith standing there, confused.  The sirens, meanwhile, grew louder.
                “They're coming for you,” Calvin said over his shoulder.  “I gave them your name.  Take a look at the bright side.  I'm updating your accommodations for the evening.  Jail is a step up from this dump.”
                Gibson seethed, balling his fists at his sides.  “If I'm going to jail tonight, there's going to be a reason for it.”