Molly crouched behind the inflatable unicorn, peering through a gap in the bouncy castle’s pastel flank. “Are you sure this is the right party? Last time you almost stole someone’s gluten-free cupcakes by mistake.” Bill smirked, clutching a glittery duffel bag. “That’s because you said, ‘follow the rainbow balloons,’ and apparently, every kid’s party has rainbow balloons.” Molly rolled her eyes. “Look, it says ‘Happy Seventh Birthday, Tyler!’ on that banner. We want Tyler. He’s loaded. His aunt’s a toy executive.” “Perfect,” Bill whispered. “So, what’s the plan? Ninja up the slide or blend in with the face-painters?” “I tried face painting last time. The kids kept asking for dinosaurs and I only know how to do abstract clowns.” “That explains the nightmares, then,” Bill shuddered. “No, this time, we infiltrate the magician's act. Everyone watches the hat—no one watches the loot.” Molly grinned. “So, you distract with some questionable magic and I sweep the gift table?” “Exactly. Just one thing—don’t accidentally saw me in half again.” “No promises if you keep talking.” Bill straightened his striped vest. “Alright. Let’s go be the least mature adults here.” “You mean, second least mature. Tyler’s uncle is still dancing.”