“Yeah,” Cuddy says. “I’d have to call my mama, ’cause my pops would probably let me sit for a couple of days before I could tell him what happened.”

“Demarcus,” I say. “What’s your sister’s number?”

Demarcus picks up his phone and scrolls.

“Put it down,” I say. “You’re in a holding cell. No phone. You need at least two numbers memorized. Who’s got one?”

Heads shake. Like almost all of my presentations.

“I got one,” Quincy says.

My eyes widen as Quincy recites my cell number.

“You have one number memorized, and you pick mine?”

“Ain’t calling my mama. Beverly would already know. If I called Jamal, he’d call you. Who better than you anyway? You know lawyers, judges, bail bonds, plus how to set up a GoFundMe account to get my ass outta jail.”

“Yo, Quincy,” Demarcus says. “Repeat that number right quick.”

“Yeah, let me put that in my phone, cuz, so I can memorize,” Cuddy says.

“Don’t you dare, Quincy.” I flick my fingers at him. Quincy grins, knowing he caused this stir. Malcolm asks him a question, then he writes down what’s probably my number and Beverly’s.

“Pick somebody you know well, somebody who’ll answer an unknown number.”

“Damn,” Cuddy says. “Only my mama does that.”

I go through a few more rounds of questions and scenarios. As we close, I see Quincy’s getting ready to leave. I pair up the audience and leave the groups with a scenario about an officer at your home. Quincy’s about to leave.

“Hold up,” I say.

Quincy weaves his way to me, probably thinking I’m getting on him about his memorizing my number stunt. He waves Malcolm on to wait outside.

“You’re leaving?” I ask.

“You want me to stay?” Quincy steps a little closer and gives me a cocky smile.

“You are too much. I’m just saying, you make a big scene in my workshop, then bounce? That for show or what?”

“Nah. I gotta get home, you know, especially if I’m going to help you break in to Herron Media.” Quincy drops this last line all clever like.

“How did you—”

“Jamal texted. Thought you might be needing backup.”

“You’re gonna help, huh? You have a genius way in?”

“Swiped keys on my way here.” Quincy smiles, then dangles the keys in front of my face.

“What? Really?”

“We been in touch. Grabbed a phone at the convenience store during lunch.”

I look away. A little frustrated Jamal doesn’t trust I can do it alone.

“Hey, I can also go by myself if you gonna pout about it.”

“Nine p.m., after dark. In the back.”

“Bet.” Quincy whistles at Malcolm and they head toward his Impala, throwing two fingers up before he drives off.