Boyfriend Season by Kelli London

wondered when he was going to be fitted with a bra. He was so big that his breasts were bigger than hers.
    The car pulled up, and both doors opened. City stepped out first. He was a vision in contrast to the dusty surroundings. Rocking all white and some sort of shoes she’d never seen, but guessed were pricey, he adjusted the fitted hat on his head, then wiped nonexistent perspiration from his brow. His skin, even before he’d “dried” it, was dry and smooth as usual. Dynasty wondered if he’d ever broken a sweat. He nodded at her, then leaned on the car, looking toward the passenger side. J.R. emerged as if on cue. He wasn’t as rowdy, secure, or loud as he usually was. In fact, she noticed, he was quiet. Without making eye contact with her, he strutted over to her, reached in his pocket, and pulled out a ten-dollar bill, then handed it to her.
    â€œSorry,” he mumbled.
    City cleared his throat.
    J.R. reached back in his pocket again, retrieving more money. He handed her a twenty. “Interest . . .”
    City cleared his throat again. “Yo, son! Don’t forget the rest.”
    J.R. looked up, focusing on the tree limbs. “Rufus, I lied. I didn’t hit her.”
    Rufus struggled, but managed to get up. “Huh?”
    J.R. put his hands in his pockets. “I said, me and Dynasty didn’t cut.” He turned around to City. “We good now? Can I go?”
    City threw up his hands and shrugged. “I don’t know, kid. Something else that I don’t know about that you need to fix? You stole from her. Lied on her. What else?” He waved his hand. “Yo son, disappear.” He looked at Rufus, and gave him a head nod, then turned to Dynasty. “Are you ready for your life to change, Dynasty?”
    Rufus snapped his fingers. “Yo, City! Them Louis boat shoes? ’Ey, Jigga rapped about those. They must’ve cost a grip.”
    City nodded, then went to hold open the passenger door for Dynasty as she took the first step of her new journey.
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    City was swift, she discovered. He talked fast and made major moves, had all the energy and pizzazz she’d heard New Yorkers had.
    â€œPay attention to the hustle, Dynasty. All of them aren’t bad. But in this world there are two ways to live. You either make it happen, or watch it happen. I make things happen and, now, so do you because you’re a part of my team. And we all have to eat. Nah’mean?” he’d said, before they’d entered the modern library that she’d never been to. In five minutes, with no ID of her own, City had dropped game on some unsuspecting teen girl behind the customer-service desk, and secured Dynasty a library card. He’d sat back with the proud face of a father while she perused the shelves, stacking book on top of book, eager to lose herself between the pages.
    â€œSlow down, Dynasty. You can come back whenever.”
    She discovered why he’d slowed her down in the library when they’d made their next stop. He’d cruised up GA 400 highway to the prestigious town of Alpharetta, exited on 8, then turned right and navigated to North Point Parkway, where he made a sharp left and cruised to a parking lot. They passed a movie theater and parked in front of a Starbucks. Again, he rounded the car and opened her door. Stepping out, she looked at the sign, the tables outside, and the people sitting there drinking coffee while holding conversations and tapping away on their laptops.
    â€œThirsty?” she asked him, following him to the entrance.
    He opened the door for her, then entered behind her. “Follow me,” he said, then walked past the counter, the patrons standing in line for the caffeinated fixes, and the glass enclosure that housed brownies, Rice Krispies treats, and different kinds of cakes and muffins.
    Dynasty drew her eyebrows together. If they weren’t here to get coffee or a treat, what was the point in