I rub my hands over my face. I get it, but I wish he did something different. “Who does he think did it?”

“I don’t know. You gotta talk to him, because as far as the po-po is concerned, the common denominator is your brother. You notice how these jokers ain’t doing much investigating. They came around here, but all they were asking about was your brother.”

“What did you say to the cops?”

“Shiiiit. I didn’t tell them nothing. And Jamal damn sure wasn’t about to give me no details so I could get hung up by this. I’m lucky Beverly had some pull, or you know they’d drag me into a room until I said something.”

“You didn’t want to know what happened to Jamal?”

“What for? If I know, they got me ratting on my boy. If I don’t know, it don’t make a difference. Jamal’s my boy, and I know he didn’t put no hands on no girl. I’d whip his ass on principle.”

Everything he’s saying is the truth I’ve known for Jamal. It makes more sense why he didn’t call the cops. I wish he hadn’t touched her and just called the cops, but Jamal wouldn’t be the type to not try and help her. He’d go to see if she was alive. If he could save her. Quincy doesn’t have more to say, so I stand. He walks me to the door. When Quincy opens it, I scoot through, but he stops me.

“For your brother, me, whoever will get you to listen, please watch out.” Quincy brushes my hair back, then cups my chin. It’s intimate. I go still, mesmerized, wanting to see what happens.

“I will,” I whisper.

Quincy’s leg is pressed up on me, and his fingers touch my hair. God, it’s weird, I want him to kiss me. He’s looking into my eyes, and I feel like he can hear inside my head. He leans in. I blink, breaking our eye contact. He tenses up, like he’s expecting me to shove him, but I don’t. Quincy grazes his lips past mine without touching them, skimming my cheek and kissing me by my ear. He releases me, opening the door wider. I almost say, That’s it? Because if he kissed me right now, I would definitely kiss him back. He doesn’t do anything more, though, so I try not to stumble down his porch to my car.

At the bottom of the last step, I hear Quincy call out to me, “Think if I didn’t get shot, I’d be your ride-or-die and not Dean?”