Draft Appropriation
Hands of the ancient grandfather clock that I inherited from my mother continued to tick, halted, ceasing to move. Shoved in the corner of my office, it towered and intimidated the other furniture in the room, like many of the underworld characters that stood before me most days requesting my famous defence in court. I was Kaitlyn Stratford, the bitter and twisted bitch that lawyers feared facing on the other side of the court room.
A malevolent snarl hadn’t always been a permanent feature of my face though. It tends to be difficult to present a perfect exterior when you are told by anyone that knows your younger sister, that you are nowhere near as perfect as Belle. Perfect intelligence, perfect appearance…. Belle was perfect, and I was not. Belle was stalked by an entourage of potential husbands, persistently whinging of the drain and inconvenience they cause in her life. Presenting a cheerful front, I always humoured my sister’s escapades, but unbeknown to the world, Kaitlyn Stratford, the famous shrew, undefeatable lawyer, envied the perfect life of her sister. I coveted a husband.
Peton Lombardi was a sophisticated and stylishly suited ladies’ man, known throughout the Melbourne underbelly for his Casanova ways. Belle Stratford had seen his name and face before, scrawled across the page of local newspapers after police infiltrated his family’s Mafia organisation. As Belle stalked into the restaurant, shuffling in her platform heels, she immediately recognised the suave and pouting man sitting at a table alone. After begging Kaitlyn’s receptionist for the contact number of Peton’s father, she contacted him and requested they meet. Belle was desperate to find her elder sister a husband, hoping it would eliminate her depressing attitudes and behaviours. If Belle didn’t intervene soon and find Kaitlyn a husband, Kaitlyn would die alone with her twenty-seven cats.
Beeping emanated from the small, white box that sat on the corner of Kaitlyn’s desk. She pressed the worn button firmly down, bracing herself for the jarring squawking of her receptionist’s voice.
“Kaitlyn! A Mr Peton Lombardi is here to see you” the receptionist’s voice lamented through the aged speaker. The door directly before Kaitlyn’s desk swung open, as a tall, slim man stepped through the door, placing on of his designer boots inside her office. Peton’s curling brown hair fell loosely around his face, framing his uniquely Italian, chiselled features. He proceeded forward towards Kaitlyn, grinning as he sat down.
“Ms Stratford.” He boomed inappropriately for such a small space, out stretching his hand, requesting a hand shake. Katilyn only just missed his amplification of over confidence through the dense cloud of cologne that beleaguered anyone within a 5 kilometre radius of him. She proceeded to question Peton about his legal situation, asking what her services will be need for. He explained the situation he was in, vaguely sweeping over his involvement with the Mafia. Peton was the owner of the Padua Bar, in which he had been caught running an illegal loan shark and gambling business by police. Kaitlyn expressed her worries in the difficulties of avoiding jail time for a crime like this, but told Peton she would try her hardest. His charming smile appeared, as he began to exclaim and rejoice in a mixture of Italian and English. He leant over the desk to peck Kaitlyn, but stopped himself as he realised the incongruous nature of the situation. Instead he returned to his uncomfortable, wooden Ikea chair.
“Ms Stratford. It would be my greatest honour to repay you for your time by taking you out to dinner” Peton proposed.
Kaitlyn was astonished, taking a few moments to find the word her brain forced her to say.
“Yes!” she exclaimed with joy as her cheeks blushed like tomatoes. It had been nearly three years since Kaitlyn was last asked on a date, so why would she turn down the opportunity to be taken to dinner by a charming and mysterious Italian man? Peton saw the sparkle in her eye as this thought flashed across her brain, realising that the shrewish woman (that most of his criminally involved family dreaded visiting, but appreciated her excellent representation in court), may just be tameable.
“Excellent! I will meet you here tomorrow night” he grinned, whilst sliding a square of paper across the table. Kaitlyn flipped it over, reading an address written across the back in impeccably neat cursive print. ‘The steps of St Paul’s Cathedral, Peton’
Kaitlyn observed the photograph of she and Peton standing hand in hand on the steps of St Paul’s Cathedral on their wedding day; her white, lace wedding dress and his well-fitting black tuxedo complimenting each other perfectly. She stroked the soft timber frame that encased the delightful memory, as she held and admired the photo. Deeply caught in the reminiscing of memories, Kaitlyn barely heard the front door click close or the easy thud of Peton’s shoes on the wooden flooring as he entered the house. Seeing Kaitlyn stand before him, Peton slinked up behind her, and wrapped his arms around her. Startled by the sudden touch of Peton’s warm arms, Kaitlyn dropped the photo frame. The glass in the frame shattered, but the photo and timber frame remained intact. As Kaitlyn turned to meet Peton’s eyes, he remembered a time before they were married when he would have feared her fierce temper and bitter tongue. Instead, several years later, she simply glanced at the broken glass, but ignored it to welcome her husband home instead.
Later that evening, Peton dialled Belle’s phone number. He held the phone to his ear, awaiting a voice on the other end of the line. As the dialtone ceased, he heard Belle’s soft and familiar voice.
“Belle, it’s Peton” he whispered into the phone, to make sure Kaitlyn could not here him. She sound startled, he had obviously woken her from sleep.
“Sorry to wake you up, but I couldn’t sleep because of all the thoughts I’ve had floating around my head. I’ve never thanked you for setting me up with Kaitlyn. I know you were originally doubtful at how long we would last, but I cannot every repay you for the happiness you have provided me with, or the happiness I have been able to give your sister. You are truly a wonderful and caring human being, who loved her sister enough to realise that she needed someone to make her happy, and you were able to give her that through me. You wanted to restore your sister back to the cheerful and positive girl you used to know, until everything began to annoy her. Thankyou so much Belle. Thankyou”
Belle was speechless. She didn’t know what to say to they kind words he had just said about her. All that could escape her quivering lips was “That’s alright”. She placed the phone back down on the receiver, and tears of happiness escaped her beautiful, green eyes. She was never sure what had caused her sister to become so bitter so long ago, but she had always believed that she had something to do with it. Finding Peton had reversed her bad deed. Kaitlyn loved Peton, and Peton love Kaitlyn. Belle thoroughly enjoyed having been the source of this happiness.
A malevolent snarl hadn’t always been a permanent feature of my face though. It tends to be difficult to present a perfect exterior when you are told by anyone that knows your younger sister, that you are nowhere near as perfect as Belle. Perfect intelligence, perfect appearance…. Belle was perfect, and I was not. Belle was stalked by an entourage of potential husbands, persistently whinging of the drain and inconvenience they cause in her life. Presenting a cheerful front, I always humoured my sister’s escapades, but unbeknown to the world, Kaitlyn Stratford, the famous shrew, undefeatable lawyer, envied the perfect life of her sister. I coveted a husband.
Peton Lombardi was a sophisticated and stylishly suited ladies’ man, known throughout the Melbourne underbelly for his Casanova ways. Belle Stratford had seen his name and face before, scrawled across the page of local newspapers after police infiltrated his family’s Mafia organisation. As Belle stalked into the restaurant, shuffling in her platform heels, she immediately recognised the suave and pouting man sitting at a table alone. After begging Kaitlyn’s receptionist for the contact number of Peton’s father, she contacted him and requested they meet. Belle was desperate to find her elder sister a husband, hoping it would eliminate her depressing attitudes and behaviours. If Belle didn’t intervene soon and find Kaitlyn a husband, Kaitlyn would die alone with her twenty-seven cats.
Beeping emanated from the small, white box that sat on the corner of Kaitlyn’s desk. She pressed the worn button firmly down, bracing herself for the jarring squawking of her receptionist’s voice.
“Kaitlyn! A Mr Peton Lombardi is here to see you” the receptionist’s voice lamented through the aged speaker. The door directly before Kaitlyn’s desk swung open, as a tall, slim man stepped through the door, placing on of his designer boots inside her office. Peton’s curling brown hair fell loosely around his face, framing his uniquely Italian, chiselled features. He proceeded forward towards Kaitlyn, grinning as he sat down.
“Ms Stratford.” He boomed inappropriately for such a small space, out stretching his hand, requesting a hand shake. Katilyn only just missed his amplification of over confidence through the dense cloud of cologne that beleaguered anyone within a 5 kilometre radius of him. She proceeded to question Peton about his legal situation, asking what her services will be need for. He explained the situation he was in, vaguely sweeping over his involvement with the Mafia. Peton was the owner of the Padua Bar, in which he had been caught running an illegal loan shark and gambling business by police. Kaitlyn expressed her worries in the difficulties of avoiding jail time for a crime like this, but told Peton she would try her hardest. His charming smile appeared, as he began to exclaim and rejoice in a mixture of Italian and English. He leant over the desk to peck Kaitlyn, but stopped himself as he realised the incongruous nature of the situation. Instead he returned to his uncomfortable, wooden Ikea chair.
“Ms Stratford. It would be my greatest honour to repay you for your time by taking you out to dinner” Peton proposed.
Kaitlyn was astonished, taking a few moments to find the word her brain forced her to say.
“Yes!” she exclaimed with joy as her cheeks blushed like tomatoes. It had been nearly three years since Kaitlyn was last asked on a date, so why would she turn down the opportunity to be taken to dinner by a charming and mysterious Italian man? Peton saw the sparkle in her eye as this thought flashed across her brain, realising that the shrewish woman (that most of his criminally involved family dreaded visiting, but appreciated her excellent representation in court), may just be tameable.
“Excellent! I will meet you here tomorrow night” he grinned, whilst sliding a square of paper across the table. Kaitlyn flipped it over, reading an address written across the back in impeccably neat cursive print. ‘The steps of St Paul’s Cathedral, Peton’
Kaitlyn observed the photograph of she and Peton standing hand in hand on the steps of St Paul’s Cathedral on their wedding day; her white, lace wedding dress and his well-fitting black tuxedo complimenting each other perfectly. She stroked the soft timber frame that encased the delightful memory, as she held and admired the photo. Deeply caught in the reminiscing of memories, Kaitlyn barely heard the front door click close or the easy thud of Peton’s shoes on the wooden flooring as he entered the house. Seeing Kaitlyn stand before him, Peton slinked up behind her, and wrapped his arms around her. Startled by the sudden touch of Peton’s warm arms, Kaitlyn dropped the photo frame. The glass in the frame shattered, but the photo and timber frame remained intact. As Kaitlyn turned to meet Peton’s eyes, he remembered a time before they were married when he would have feared her fierce temper and bitter tongue. Instead, several years later, she simply glanced at the broken glass, but ignored it to welcome her husband home instead.
Later that evening, Peton dialled Belle’s phone number. He held the phone to his ear, awaiting a voice on the other end of the line. As the dialtone ceased, he heard Belle’s soft and familiar voice.
“Belle, it’s Peton” he whispered into the phone, to make sure Kaitlyn could not here him. She sound startled, he had obviously woken her from sleep.
“Sorry to wake you up, but I couldn’t sleep because of all the thoughts I’ve had floating around my head. I’ve never thanked you for setting me up with Kaitlyn. I know you were originally doubtful at how long we would last, but I cannot every repay you for the happiness you have provided me with, or the happiness I have been able to give your sister. You are truly a wonderful and caring human being, who loved her sister enough to realise that she needed someone to make her happy, and you were able to give her that through me. You wanted to restore your sister back to the cheerful and positive girl you used to know, until everything began to annoy her. Thankyou so much Belle. Thankyou”
Belle was speechless. She didn’t know what to say to they kind words he had just said about her. All that could escape her quivering lips was “That’s alright”. She placed the phone back down on the receiver, and tears of happiness escaped her beautiful, green eyes. She was never sure what had caused her sister to become so bitter so long ago, but she had always believed that she had something to do with it. Finding Peton had reversed her bad deed. Kaitlyn loved Peton, and Peton love Kaitlyn. Belle thoroughly enjoyed having been the source of this happiness.
A solid wooden thud vibrated through the elegant townhouse
of Peton and Kaitlyn Lombardi. Kaitlyn lay rigid in her bed, as she prepared
herself for the booming footsteps of her husband on the creaking wooden stairs,
as Peton made his way to their bedroom. Kaitlyn remained completely still,
creating a façade of deep sleep, so her husband would not try to wake her. Her
body tingled with the urge to scratch something, but the bruises that covered
the top half of her body screamed to stay absolutely still. He grasped the
brass handle and slowly cracked the door open. His usual dense cloud of cologne
and alcohol tainted the air. Luckily Kaitlyn’s façade had worked, as Peton fell
into bed without noticing his wife. She had avoided another beating from her
raging and drunken husband, who had returned late from a night of crime.
Peton Lombardi. Melbourne Underworld figure, famous Casanova and ruthless loan shark. He frequented the news for his criminal escapades, and spent countless late nights with his “associates” in the darkened corners of inner city bars and clubs discussing their next hit, or illegal plan. His criminal activity had increased in recent years, requiring he stay out until the early morning, arriving home highly intoxicated. In the past Kaitlyn frequently expressed her disagreement with Peton’s work, and often resulted in Peton settling arguments in the only way he knew. Violence
Cold, Winter Melbourne air swept past Kaitlyn’s face as she walked to the lawyer’s office. Arriving at the towering, stone building, she remembered a time before her marriage to Peton, when she would have defended herself and not accepted violence quietly. Marriage into the Underworld changed people. It was like a raging and vehement disease that attacked your personality. A life that revolved around violence had weakened Kaitlyn’s feisty nature, instilling constant fear and anxiety within her.
Kaitlyn stepped through the doors of Graham and Sons Lawyers, welcoming the warmth that it provided to her frozen body. The receptionist gestured towards the lawyer’s door, and she walked on through. Stepping into the small office felt like home, prompting memories of her previous life as a lawyer to flood back. Her chest ached, as she reminisced of the first time she met Peton. She was once Kaitlyn Stratford, the lawyer that all other lawyers feared facing. Bitter and tempestuous, she won almost every case. Her representation of underworld figures lead Peton to her office, he’d needed an excellent lawyer to get him out of trouble.
A short, round man with a balding head sat slouching at the desk directly ahead of the door as Kaitlyn entered the office. She could see the booklet of white paper waiting in the middle of his desk, the documents she had so eagerly come here for. The man slid the papers towards her, lightly placing a pen next to her hand; he prompted her to sign in all appropriate places.
Kaitlyn pulled her BMW into the driveway of their townhouse, and turned off the ignition. She sat solemnly in the car, contemplating the events that may unfold when she gives Peton the divorce papers. Stepping out of the car, Kaitlyn’s legs began to quiver; partly from nerves, partly from Melbourne’s brisk winter air. Entering the house, she called out to Peton and asked him to come to speak with her in the kitchen.
Peton stared down at the pile of white paper before him, recognising the familiar font of legal documents. Much like the masses of paper Kaitlyn used to read through each night as she came home from work. Before he could question Kaitlyn, she had already begun explaining what the documents were for. The tone and language that she used reminded him of Kaitlyn as a lawyer. Kaitlyn before they were married.
Kaitlyn’s voice portrayed confidence, but her quivering lip and shaking hands gave her away.
“I want a divorce,” Kaitlyn stated firmly, but without anger. Hatred tainted her eyes as she stared at her husband with anguish, hoping he would understand her desperation. Hoping he would allow her freedom
Peton was stunned, but not completely surprised. Kaitlyn’s self-righteous ways had returned, and she wanted out. Peton felt anger rage within him, and he grasped the kitchen bench firmly to prevent him from doing anything stupid. Without saying anything to Kaitlyn, he left the kitchen to find his car keys.
Smoke surrounded Peton as he sat alone in the corner of Padua Bar. Placing his lips around the cigarette, he drew in a deep breath - filling his lungs with smoke. The hot and tingling sensation that resulted dulled his emotions, and he was able to forget Kaitlyn’s face when she handed him the bundle of white paper. The distress in her eyes was tattooed in Peton’s mind. The waiter arrived at the table, finally delivering the glass of Whisky that Peton craved. The liquid burned his throat as it entered his body. A sense of utopia overcame him, as he relaxed in the uncomfortable, wooden bar chair.
Kaitlyn heaved the last suitcase into her car. Placing two hands on the boot, she pushed downwards firmly to lock it. She turned slowly to take a last glimpse of the townhouse, thankful that she would never lay awake in the bedroom again, apprehensively awaiting the arrival of her drunken husband. After placing the key slowly in the ignition, Kaitlyn reversed out of the driveway, set towards her new home. An apartment in the centre of the city, only blocks away from the law firm she would now be working for.
Beeping emanated from the small, white box that sat on the corner of Kaitlyn’s desk. She pressed the smooth, metallic button firmly down, bracing herself for the jarring squawking of her receptionist’s voice.
“Ms Stratford, a Mr Peton Lombardi is here to see you,” the receptionist’s voice lamented through the aged speaker.
Kaitlyn had been horridly working to finish preparation for a highly publicised underworld case tomorrow, but her limbs immediately fell limp when she heard the name. The door opposite her desk swung open, as Peton placed a foot inside the door. He had always been slim, but he had become so thin that his suit no longer fitted him. It looked like he was playing dress up with his father’s clothes.
Peton walked forward and sat down in the chair in front of Kaitlyn’s desk. He admired the nameplate in front of him, reading out loud the name engraved into it. “Kaitlyn Stratford”. His face became perplexed.
“Ten years of marriage… and you didn’t even want to keep my last name?”
Kaitlyn was unsure how to respond, simply remaining behind her desk until he spoke again. His face became calm, line free. The corners of his mouth fell into a frown.
“Kaitlyn. I’m in trouble. I really need your help. I’ve… I’ve done something terrible. I was drunk… I didn’t realise what I was doing until it was too late. I think I killed him”
Tears formed in the corners of Peton’s eyes, and he threw his head into his hands. Kaitlyn was not startled by the latest development in the fall of the “King of the Underground”.
“I’m sorry Peton, I can’t help you” Kaitlyn stated firmly, trying to remain calm and composed. She stood up harshly from her leather office chair, and walked briskly, without looking back at her sobbing ex-husband, from the room.
Peton Lombardi. Melbourne Underworld figure, famous Casanova and ruthless loan shark. He frequented the news for his criminal escapades, and spent countless late nights with his “associates” in the darkened corners of inner city bars and clubs discussing their next hit, or illegal plan. His criminal activity had increased in recent years, requiring he stay out until the early morning, arriving home highly intoxicated. In the past Kaitlyn frequently expressed her disagreement with Peton’s work, and often resulted in Peton settling arguments in the only way he knew. Violence
Cold, Winter Melbourne air swept past Kaitlyn’s face as she walked to the lawyer’s office. Arriving at the towering, stone building, she remembered a time before her marriage to Peton, when she would have defended herself and not accepted violence quietly. Marriage into the Underworld changed people. It was like a raging and vehement disease that attacked your personality. A life that revolved around violence had weakened Kaitlyn’s feisty nature, instilling constant fear and anxiety within her.
Kaitlyn stepped through the doors of Graham and Sons Lawyers, welcoming the warmth that it provided to her frozen body. The receptionist gestured towards the lawyer’s door, and she walked on through. Stepping into the small office felt like home, prompting memories of her previous life as a lawyer to flood back. Her chest ached, as she reminisced of the first time she met Peton. She was once Kaitlyn Stratford, the lawyer that all other lawyers feared facing. Bitter and tempestuous, she won almost every case. Her representation of underworld figures lead Peton to her office, he’d needed an excellent lawyer to get him out of trouble.
A short, round man with a balding head sat slouching at the desk directly ahead of the door as Kaitlyn entered the office. She could see the booklet of white paper waiting in the middle of his desk, the documents she had so eagerly come here for. The man slid the papers towards her, lightly placing a pen next to her hand; he prompted her to sign in all appropriate places.
Kaitlyn pulled her BMW into the driveway of their townhouse, and turned off the ignition. She sat solemnly in the car, contemplating the events that may unfold when she gives Peton the divorce papers. Stepping out of the car, Kaitlyn’s legs began to quiver; partly from nerves, partly from Melbourne’s brisk winter air. Entering the house, she called out to Peton and asked him to come to speak with her in the kitchen.
Peton stared down at the pile of white paper before him, recognising the familiar font of legal documents. Much like the masses of paper Kaitlyn used to read through each night as she came home from work. Before he could question Kaitlyn, she had already begun explaining what the documents were for. The tone and language that she used reminded him of Kaitlyn as a lawyer. Kaitlyn before they were married.
Kaitlyn’s voice portrayed confidence, but her quivering lip and shaking hands gave her away.
“I want a divorce,” Kaitlyn stated firmly, but without anger. Hatred tainted her eyes as she stared at her husband with anguish, hoping he would understand her desperation. Hoping he would allow her freedom
Peton was stunned, but not completely surprised. Kaitlyn’s self-righteous ways had returned, and she wanted out. Peton felt anger rage within him, and he grasped the kitchen bench firmly to prevent him from doing anything stupid. Without saying anything to Kaitlyn, he left the kitchen to find his car keys.
Smoke surrounded Peton as he sat alone in the corner of Padua Bar. Placing his lips around the cigarette, he drew in a deep breath - filling his lungs with smoke. The hot and tingling sensation that resulted dulled his emotions, and he was able to forget Kaitlyn’s face when she handed him the bundle of white paper. The distress in her eyes was tattooed in Peton’s mind. The waiter arrived at the table, finally delivering the glass of Whisky that Peton craved. The liquid burned his throat as it entered his body. A sense of utopia overcame him, as he relaxed in the uncomfortable, wooden bar chair.
Kaitlyn heaved the last suitcase into her car. Placing two hands on the boot, she pushed downwards firmly to lock it. She turned slowly to take a last glimpse of the townhouse, thankful that she would never lay awake in the bedroom again, apprehensively awaiting the arrival of her drunken husband. After placing the key slowly in the ignition, Kaitlyn reversed out of the driveway, set towards her new home. An apartment in the centre of the city, only blocks away from the law firm she would now be working for.
Beeping emanated from the small, white box that sat on the corner of Kaitlyn’s desk. She pressed the smooth, metallic button firmly down, bracing herself for the jarring squawking of her receptionist’s voice.
“Ms Stratford, a Mr Peton Lombardi is here to see you,” the receptionist’s voice lamented through the aged speaker.
Kaitlyn had been horridly working to finish preparation for a highly publicised underworld case tomorrow, but her limbs immediately fell limp when she heard the name. The door opposite her desk swung open, as Peton placed a foot inside the door. He had always been slim, but he had become so thin that his suit no longer fitted him. It looked like he was playing dress up with his father’s clothes.
Peton walked forward and sat down in the chair in front of Kaitlyn’s desk. He admired the nameplate in front of him, reading out loud the name engraved into it. “Kaitlyn Stratford”. His face became perplexed.
“Ten years of marriage… and you didn’t even want to keep my last name?”
Kaitlyn was unsure how to respond, simply remaining behind her desk until he spoke again. His face became calm, line free. The corners of his mouth fell into a frown.
“Kaitlyn. I’m in trouble. I really need your help. I’ve… I’ve done something terrible. I was drunk… I didn’t realise what I was doing until it was too late. I think I killed him”
Tears formed in the corners of Peton’s eyes, and he threw his head into his hands. Kaitlyn was not startled by the latest development in the fall of the “King of the Underground”.
“I’m sorry Peton, I can’t help you” Kaitlyn stated firmly, trying to remain calm and composed. She stood up harshly from her leather office chair, and walked briskly, without looking back at her sobbing ex-husband, from the room.
