The set up pt 9

“Spencer, what the hell is going on?” Amelia demanded.

Standing in the doorway of their bedroom, the older blonde watched her husband ranting, the maid rushing to fill the suitcase, and her mind went to hell. She had never been the most stable of women, and right now he was testing her patience. For a split second, she contemplated placing her hands on her hips and stomping her feet. Being a trophy wife was hard work when your husband Spencer Kennedy.

“Shut up, Amelia. I told you, business,” he groaned, his hands to his ears to muffle the sounds that came from his wife. She was the last person he needed to fight with today.

Stalking deeper into the bedroom, standing directly behind the tall male as he adjusted his tie in the mirror, she tapped him on the shoulder, “Come on Spencer, what the hell is going on. Something’s wrong or you would tell me what the business was.”

Never blinking and eye, Spencer simply turned, grabbed the suitcase and disappeared down the staircase. The last thing Amelia would hear is the slamming of the front door and the car driving away. She was no closer to the truth than before.

“That stupid mother fucker. God damn, son of a bitch,” Amelia screamed, her hand reaching for a container that held the ashes of Spencer’s mother.

“Oh no, Mrs., Kennedy, no. Last time I had to clean out the fireplace to make it full again,” Maria begged, reaching for the vase that teetered in her hands.

Thrown the air, the vase didn’t stop till it hit the wall, a stain of ashes left as the pieces shattered on the floor of their bedroom.

“Fuck her for giving birth to that man. Maria, before you clean this up, I demand to know who Spencer was speaking too before he left. I heard voices downstairs,” squawking, her voice sent chills up and down the spine of the maid. It was common knowledge in the house that when Spencer left her alone, she thought she was some sort of Royalty and would even prance through the house calling herself the Queen of Camelot.

“Two cops came here about Miss Mary. Something bad happened to her baby,” she blurted out, not knowing that the family didn’t know about the birth of Grace.

“WHAT! WHAT DID YOU JUST SAY?” Amelia moved quickly, grabbing the heavyset woman’s shoulders, shaking her hard. “If you’re lying to me, I will have you put away for good. I will tell the police you stole from me.”

Shaking her head fast from side to side, “No, I heard it all. Miss Mary has a baby, and someone took it. Killed someone too. Her baby is kidnapped.”

“Pack my things. I am flying to Los Angeles, and clean this shit up. Use what ashes you can and get the rest from the grill out-back. Fill it full of dirt for all I care,” Amelia ordered the maid.

“Yes, Ma’am. I will get it all done,” sighing, the maid was happy she was leaving, but when Mr. Kennedy found out, there would be hell to pay.

Hours later, on a plane to Los Angeles, Amelia did what she was told to never do again. She called her daughter.

“Hello Mother,” Gypsy’s voice flat, Amelia was the last person she wanted to talk to.

Rolling her eyes, downing her third drink and calling for another, Amelia smirked when she heard her daughter’s voice on the other end. “Is there something you forgot to tell your family, Mary? Asking.

Heart racing, Gypsy knew they had told her. This old bitch knew something. “Only that you’re drunk, and I told you to never call me again,” rolling her eyes as she spoke, Gypsy used one hand to grip the table and steady herself.

“No, you dumb little whore. I want my fucking Granddaughter right fucking now!” yelling, everyone in first class turning to look at the drunk blonde. “What? Do you fucking people know who I am? Do you? I am a fucking Kennedy. Mind your own fucking business,” screaming, the waitress brought her a drink in the middle of her verbal assault of the other passengers.

“Do not ever call me, and don’t you ever mention my daughter again. She is dead to you,” crying out, Gypsy fumbled, blocking her mother’s number quick. Her hands shaking, falling to the floor amid an emotional breakdown. Her family was never to know about the child. Now, she couldn’t protect her anymore from the wrath that was her family.

Waving to the flight attendant, Amelia held up her empty glass, shaking it, “I need another drink.” By now everyone in the first class knew more about the Kennedy family than they should, some using a cell phone to tape the drunk woman’s rampage.

“Mrs. Kennedy, we can’t serve you anything else. I suggest you maybe eat something or take a nap till we land in a few hours,” the young brunette flight attendant spoke, trying to not alert anyone else of the issue with the drunk passenger.

“How fucking dare, you. I will have you fired for this. Give me a god damn drink. My granddaughter has been kidnapped!” Amelia shouted, everything spilling out right in front of a plane full of strangers. Gasps heard this would be on every social media platform and the evening news before the plane landed. Amelia’s mouth once again selling tickets to a parade that wasn’t hers.

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