Run: 2026-07-25-01KYCQSCAY45759HC7S4KADSES

Molly spread the napkin across the table and smoothed it flat with the side of her hand. "That's the bouncy castle," she said, tapping a blot of gravy. "That's the gift table. And that, right there, is our window." "That's a coffee ring." "That's the *window*, Bill." Bill leaned back and folded his arms. "I want it on the record that I have concerns." "Noted." "Seventeen concerns." "Also noted." "Concern the first," he said, holding up a finger. "It's a child's birthday party." "And?" "And I have a soul, Molly. Small, undernourished, but present." "You stole a wheelchair ramp." "That was a *misunderstanding*. I thought it was a skateboard accessory." He rubbed his face. "Whose party is it?" "Tobias Fenwick-Barr. Turning nine." "Never heard of him." "His father owns four car dealerships and a helicopter, and last year the boy received a Rolex." Bill's arms uncrossed slightly. "A Rolex." "A child's Rolex. Solid gold. With a dinosaur on the face." "That's obscene." "It's *ours* is what it is." He picked up the napkin, examined it, and set it back down. "Right. Fine. Say I'm in. Hypothetically. How do we get past thirty parents?" "Forty." "*Forty* parents, all of whom are holding phones and looking for something to be outraged about—" "That's the beauty of it," Molly said. "Nobody at a children's party knows who anyone else is. Everybody assumes you belong to somebody. You just have to look tired and hold a juice box." "That's it? That's the whole disguise?" "You'll also be wearing a lanyard." "A lanyard." "People trust a lanyard, Bill. A lanyard is a badge for cowards." Bill sighed the sigh of a man who had once wanted to be a dentist. "And the presents? There'll be, what, sixty of them? We can't exactly stuff them down our trousers." "Piñata." "Come again?" "Every party has a piñata," Molly said. "Mine is six feet tall, shaped like a unicorn, and hollow as a politician. We wheel it in, we load it up, we wheel it out. Anyone asks, we say the piñata guy needs to inflate it." "You don't inflate a piñata." "Nobody knows that. Nobody has ever known that." "And if some kid takes a swing at it?" Molly slid a small object across the table. Bill picked it up. "Is this a bicycle bell?" "That's a diversion. You ring it, and you shout, 'The ice cream van's here and it's free.' Forty parents will turn into a stampede. Children will trample their own grandmothers." "That's genuinely evil." "That's *marketing*." Bill turned the bell over in his fingers. Rang it once, experimentally. Winced at how much he enjoyed it. "One condition," he said. "Go on." "The boy keeps something. One present. His actual favourite." Molly stared at him. "Why?" "Because I have to sleep, Molly, and lately I've been dreaming about that ramp." "Fine. One present." "Thank you." "He can keep the socks." Bill rang the bell again. "Saturday, then." "Saturday. Wear something with cartoon characters on it. And practise looking exhausted." "Molly," he said, standing, "I've never had to practise that in my life."