Molly slumped against the van's steering wheel, binoculars pressed to her eyes. "Tell me again why we're doing this?" "Because my ex-wife's lawyer cleaned me out, and I need quick cash," Bill muttered, adjusting his clown wig in the passenger seat mirror. "Besides, those rich kids get too many presents anyway." "Right. And you thought the best disguise was Bozo the Clown?" "It's festive. We're party entertainers. Stop complaining and focus." Molly lowered the binoculars and turned to face him. The red nose squeaked as Bill shifted uncomfortably in his polka-dot jumpsuit. "I'm just saying, when you asked me to do 'one last job,' I pictured something more Ocean's Eleven and less... this." "Ocean's Eleven didn't have a foolproof plan like mine." "Foolproof? Bill, your plan is to juggle our way into a six-year-old's birthday party and stuff presents into a balloon animal bag." "Exactly! It's brilliant. No one suspects the entertainment." Through the windshield, they watched children streaming into the Henderson mansion, arms loaded with wrapped boxes. A bounce house dominated the manicured front lawn, and streamers fluttered from every surface. "Look at the size of that pile," Bill whispered, practically drooling. "Xbox, PlayStation, bikes, tablets..." "And about thirty witnesses under the age of ten." "Kids are terrible witnesses. Trust me, I've been to court." "That's not reassuring." "Just follow my lead. We go in, I do my routine, you make balloon animals. During pin the tail on the donkey, we grab everything and exit through the back." "What if someone recognizes us?" Bill honked his nose. "Who's going to recognize us? I'm wearing size twenty-eight shoes and you're dressed as a mime." "I hate mimes." "Everyone hates mimes. That's why it's perfect. No one will want to talk to you." Molly sighed, pulling on her white gloves and checking her face paint one last time. "If this goes wrong, I'm telling everyone this was your idea." "When has anything I've planned ever gone wrong?" "The Detroit job. The Phoenix situation. That thing in Buffalo—" "Okay, okay. But this is different. This is just a bunch of kids." "And their parents. And probably security cameras. And—" "Molly, do you want to pay rent this month or not?" She grabbed her prop bag filled with balloons and dubious intent. "Fine. But if little Timmy Henderson catches us and we end up on the evening news as the world's most pathetic criminals, you're buying me a new identity." "Deal. Now remember, smile and wave. We're children's entertainers. Happy thoughts." "The only happy thought I have right now is strangling you with a balloon poodle." "That's the spirit! Let's go steal from some children." They climbed out of the van, Bill's oversized shoes slapping against the pavement. Across the street, the Henderson house loomed, filled with sugar-rushed children and expensive electronics wrapped in dinosaur paper. "I can't believe I'm doing this," Molly muttered. "Believe it, partner. It's showtime."