Run: 2026-10-13-01M4TBK7DM0Z5W8KRA0JDW7VD4

Molly spread the blueprint across the hood of the sedan, pinning the corners with a juice box, a granola bar, and Bill's left hand, which he hadn't moved fast enough. The blueprint was drawn in crayon. Crayon was all her source accepted as payment. "Split-level on Maple Street," she said. "Party at two. Bounce house out back covers our exit." "We're escaping via bounce house?" Bill asked, freeing his thumb. "Through the gap in the fence behind it. The bounce house is cover." "Can I go in the bounce house?" "No." "One bounce." "Bill." He fell silent, but she could see him filing the idea away for later, which concerned her. A kid wobbled past on a bicycle and they both leaned casually over the blueprint until he was gone. Molly tapped the crayon rectangle labeled GIFT TABLE in letters that suggested the artist had recently learned to spell. "Twenty-three guests, twenty-three presents minimum. Source says the grandmother went big this year." "How big?" "Nintendo Switch big." Bill whistled low, the way he had once whistled at a Rembrandt, before Rotterdam. "Who's your source?" "Chloe. She's seven. I traded her a pack of gum for the guest list." "That's cold, Molly." "That's business." She produced a laminated card from her jacket. "Disguises. I'm the face painter. The mother thinks I'm with the party company." "What party company?" "Fun Time Friends. I made business cards." She flicked one at him. It was genuinely well designed. "You're the balloon animal guy." Bill brightened, then dimmed. "I don't know how to make balloon animals." "Learn one dog and one sword. That's all kids ask for." "My nephew asked for a giraffe once." "Tell him it's a tall dog." Bill considered this, turning a balloon over in his hands like it might contain answers. It contained only air, which in his opinion was also what the plan contained, but he kept that to himself. He gave the balloon an experimental twist. It became, unmistakably, a snake. "Okay," he said. "But I want it on record that I feel bad." "Noted." "These are kids, Molly. Kids love presents. It's their whole thing." "One last job, then Florida. Beach. No more windows." He sighed the sigh of a man who had agreed to Florida without reading the brochure. "What if we ruin the kid's birthday?" "We're not ruining it. There's still cake." "And the bounce house." "Which you are not—" "One bounce. While I'm there." Molly pinched the bridge of her nose, a gesture eleven years of partnership had perfected. "Fine. One bounce. But blow this job and I'm telling Florida you died." "When do we rehearse?" "Thursday. My garage. Folding table, shoeboxes wrapped in birthday paper." "Where'd you get birthday paper?" "Chloe." "You're going to put that kid through college with gum." "Or she'll put us in prison. She's a shark. Never negotiate with a seven-year-old on her home turf." Bill nodded solemnly and twisted the balloon again. It popped. Somewhere, distantly, a dog barked.