Rosemary and Juliet

The End of All Things

Juliet

Juliet sat in her room, awaiting the word.

It was June ninth, after all, and that was the day that Agent Tracie Simon would help them fake their deaths. There's a type of poison that makes it seem as though your heart stops, but it hasn't really, and you're not dead. That was how Juliet would go. Rosemary, on the other hand, had taken the route of jumping into the Huron River because, and quote, "I just think that's a really fucking rad way to go, you know? Real fucking rad."

Granted, her way was probably easier, less painful on her loved ones. No one had to witness her death, find her body. They just had to go by Tracie's word that she was dead. Juliet flashed back to the night that they had set it all up.

****

"This is Chris Jacobs, and she's our . . . Well, she's our official artist. We need those for suspects and such, and she's really talented at recreating crime scenes and such. Really, Chrissy is brilliant," Simon said.

Before them stood easily the most beautiful woman that Juliet had ever seen. It made the US versus Britain seem like it was comprised of sevens even if they were twelves. She was curvy and tall, somehow smiling like she was in the middle of seducing someone. Long, chocolate curls fell over her shoulder and down to her waist, her lips painted red. She was absolutely stunning.

"Hey, girls," she greeted. "I'm usually just a color guard coach, but I need a side job. This one pays better. It's more stressful, but it pays better."

Rosemary babbled out some sort of awed gibberish that could only compare to Sherlock in the presence of Irene Adler for the first time, or a stereotypical dork in the presence of the most beautiful girl at school. Juliet elbowed her, giving her a look. She's hot, but you're kidding, right? Keep it together.

Sorry, darling, I was just not prepared, Rosemary shrugged back, probably, if Juliet was reading her mind correctly.

"So, what are we doing, exactly, that requires an artist?" Juliet asked. She knew that they were there to plan for their "deaths," but not really much else.

"You can't have a funeral without a corpse," Chris explained before Tracie could say a word. "With these skills, I could help my niece create her first fake ID. But, I won't. I'm kidding. Oh, come on, Tracie, you know I'm kidding!"

Tracie just looked at her skeptically. "Chrissy was sort of like a lost puppy when we found her three years ago. Playing the role of a single parent, even though she was the cool aunt, out of a job, and borderline alcoholic."

"I was never an alcoholic, you're so dramatic. I just was a starving artist, which is cool and aesthetic and all, but I have this niece that I'm the legal guardian of, and I have to provide for her, so . . . You feel me?"

"Yeah," Rose replied, still drooling.

"Anyways, I'm going to draw you on my tablet," she said, holding up a drawing tablet. "3D and all that jazz. Then, I'm going to put in your measurements, and that's all going to go into some very cool things that can be done. But, I'm designing your dead bodies. Don't worry, later I'll design your new appearances!"

"Wow, thanks," Juliet laughed. "I guess I never thought of the part where we'd have to change our looks."

"Yeah, they usually don't. I am seeing you with short hair, bleach blonde, what do you say?" she asked.

"Oh, no," Juliet said. "I'm Irish, that wouldn't look good on my complexion. And short hair? It's gay and all, but I don't think that my face shape works with that. It'll make me look like a boy."