"Alright, gimme the run down," Molly said, leaning back in her chair and crossing her legs. "What's the job?" Bill unrolled a blueprint of a suburban home with a hand-drawn red X marked "Present Haul". "Birthday party this Saturday. Parents are loaded and splurging on the kid. Mountains of toys and trinkets ripe for the picking." Molly whistled. "A regular Brinks truck of loot. How much we talking?" "Forty parties worth of gerber guns and plastic crap to fence?" Bill shrugged, "Couple grand probably." "'Couple grand...' We rich now, baby." She chuckled and slapped a palm into his. "I'm in. What's the plan?" Bill traced a finger along the blueprints. "Okay, rental truck in back - looks like a Little Tikes' party so the Toys R' Us haul is gonna be massive. We load up,Sunday Funday." "Too risky," Molly said. "Too many lookie-loos. I say we-" "-waltz in as grownups, case the joint, then noir job at night?" Bill said with a grin. "Ever the subtle egg, Mol." "Kinda gotta be, pitching in front of innocent kids. Plus-" She looked down her top "-showin' my assets to cute single dads is the easy part. Flash my rack, cop a feel, and rile 'em while you slip out back." "Devious. I like it. And the booze after, you'll have Sailors pouring us umbrella drinks and coaxin' me AARP card for mutual stroke sessions." Bill stretched and buttoned his shirt cuffs. "Mental prep tomorrow. Saturday, new toys and eye on the layaway. Sunday-" "-brunch with your misses if you play your cards right." Molly winked. "Stop planning and let's hit the bars. Building up for role." "Role?" He raised an eyebrow. "Gotta know how to deputy dad up in public." She sauntered to the door, bare feet padding on the floor. "C'mon handicap, I'm parched." At the dive bar, Bill nursed the boilermakers thoughtfully, unthinking of the coming night. Molly rubbed her bare feet over his legs conspirationally. This time, easy money came with Nobel risks too. The time struck four. She clinked her heel on the capitally lettered linoleum.