Wolverhampton Wonder
"Locksmith Adaeze opens every door in Wolverhampton—but the thick Malian woman who keeps locking herself out might be doing it on purpose, just to see her again."
The call-outs were suspicious.
Fatoumata locked herself out weekly. Different excuses every time.
"You need a key holder," Adaeze suggested.
"I have one. She keeps visiting."
"Me?"
"You." That thick body leaned against the doorframe. "Coffee?"
The coffee became ritual.
Adaeze would unlock the door. Fatoumata would offer coffee. The visits stretched longer each time.
"You could just give me your number," Adaeze said finally.
"Where's the romance in that?"
"This is expensive."
"You're worth it."
The next lockout was different.
"Come inside," Fatoumata said. "I want to show you something."
"Your locks?"
"My gratitude."
The gratitude was thorough.
Fatoumata's thick body pressed Adaeze against the door she'd just unlocked.
"I've been waiting for you to make a move," Fatoumata admitted.
"I thought I was being professional."
"Be unprofessional. Please."
Wolverhampton's best locksmith learned to pick new kinds of locks.
Fatoumata's defenses. Her hesitations. Her final surrender.
"Open me," she whispered.
"With pleasure."
The emergency calls stopped.
Instead, standing appointments. Dinner. Breakfast.
"Best customer I ever had," Adaeze said.
"Best locksmith I ever called," Fatoumata agreed.
Some locks, they learned, were worth picking repeatedly.
And some doors should always stay open.