The warehouse smelled like motor oil and disappointment. Molly spread the blueprint across the wobbly card table while Bill nursed his third energy drink of the morning. "Alright, so the Johnson kid's party starts at two," Molly said, tapping the paper with her pencil. "That gives us exactly one hour to get in, grab the goods, and get out." "The goods?" Bill squinted at her. "You mean the presents?" "Yes, Bill, the presents." "From a nine-year-old's birthday party?" "Look, do you want to eat this month or not?" Molly circled the backyard layout she'd sketched. "Intel says this kid's loaded. We're talking two lawyers for parents, private school, the works. Last year he got a dirt bike and a PlayStation." Bill crumpled his empty can against his forehead. The aluminum barely dented. "Fine. What's the plan?" "Simple. You dress as the entertainment." "The entertainment?" "Bongo the Clown canceled last minute. Food poisoning." Molly grinned. "Terrible shame. But lucky for them, Bonzo the Clown is available." "Bonzo?" "I already made the call. You're booked." Bill stood up so fast his chair tipped backward. "Absolutely not." "Come on, it's perfect! While you're making balloon animals, I'll slip upstairs and empty the present room." "Present room? They have a whole room?" "Focus, Bill. You'll need to keep twenty-five sugar-high children distracted for at least thirty minutes." "I don't know any magic tricks!" "So learn some. YouTube exists." Molly pulled out a wrinkled costume from her duffel bag. "I got this from a thrift store. Only two suspicious stains." Bill held the polka-dot monstrosity at arm's length. "It smells like sadness and cottage cheese." "That's the smell of opportunity, William." "Don't call me William. And what if someone recognizes me?" "Hence the clown makeup. Plus, nobody looks at the entertainment. Parents will be drinking wine in the kitchen, kids will be screaming. It's chaos. Beautiful, profitable chaos." "What's your cover?" "Catering assistant. I'll slip in through the kitchen, claim I need to check on the ice sculpture upstairs." "Ice sculpture?" "Yeah, it's a giraffe apparently. Rich people are weird." Molly folded the blueprint. "Point is, nobody questions the help." Bill was still examining the costume like it might bite him. "What about security cameras?" "Dad's a privacy lawyer. No cameras on the property. Something about teaching boundaries." "How convenient." "Right? Sometimes the universe just aligns." Molly stood and stretched. "Oh, and Bill? Try to actually make some kids laugh. We want repeat business in this neighborhood." "Repeat business? You want to make this a regular thing?" "Birthday party season just started, buddy. Little Timmy Henderson turns ten next week. I hear his dad owns a yacht." Bill sighed and stuffed the costume back in the bag. "I'm gonna need more energy drinks." "That's the spirit! Meet back here at noon. And practice your balloon animals." "I hate you." "No, you don't. You hate being broke more." She had him there.