The Side Hustle (#1)

Chapter 1

“How long have you been driving for Uber?”

“Seven months,” Kirby Willis said. Using the rearview mirror, he looked at Anthony, his passenger, who was in his early thirties, with a fifty-dollar haircut, tailored blue suit, and unnaturally bright white teeth.

The Uber app had announced his name before Kirby picked him up. It was one of the reasons Kirby liked working with the company. Everyone was immediately on a first-name basis. Sometimes the people in the backseat forgot that. Anthony loosened his tie as he watched the scenery pass.

Kirby guessed Anthony’s next question was either going to be about how Uber worked or if he knew where to get something illicit. It seemed it was always that way with this type—amped-up and in a thousand-dollar suit. Kirby liked the conversations about the ride-sharing service, but he hated the questions about anything illegal. In the past, he’d been asked for prostitutes, drugs, and even a gun once.

“Do you know where I can score?” Anthony asked.

There it is, Kirby thought. He shook his head, not looking back. “Sorry, no.”

“You don’t even know what I want.”

“Again, I’m sorry.”

Anthony made eye contact with Kirby using the rearview mirror. “What if I wanted some weed? Would you take me to a weed store? That’s legal in this backwater city, right?”

“Yes, sir,” Kirby said, becoming extra professional. “Do you have an address?”

Anthony flicked his hand in Kirby’s direction. “I don’t want weed.”

Kirby looked at the GPS on his phone, which tracked the remaining time to his destination. Three minutes. Three long minutes. Keep him occupied, thought Kirby.

“Want to hear some music?”

“Are you kidding?” Anthony said. “I want some coke, and you’re asking me if I want music? You’re the worst driver I’ve ever met.”

Kirby turned his attention to the road and ignored his passenger as he melted down in the backseat with a series of expletives. “I can’t believe this,” Anthony yelled and pounded the seat with his palms.

The car rounded the corner to Spokane’s most exclusive and high-end hotel, The Davenport, and coasted into the loading zone. A valet hurried to the car to unload the passenger’s bags. Anthony exited the vehicle but leaned back in before closing the door.

“I’m going to one-star you, man. You royally suck.” He slammed the door.

Kirby lowered his head and took a breath.

***

Monday nights were a crapshoot at closing time. Some nights he’d get a handful of fares. Others, he’d strike out completely.

His phone dinged, calling him to Borracho, a busy nightspot and one where he often picked up customers. His fare’s picture showed up. She was a pretty redhead named Felicity.

It was a quick trip to the bar, as he was only a few blocks away. People milled around outside the various clubs along the street. He spotted her from the corner as she walked with an unsteady gait toward his car. Felicity reached out for a signpost to stabilize herself. She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. She wore a light summer dress and flip-flops. With a breath of renewed confidence, she opened her eyes, released her grip on the pole, and hurried to his car. She pulled open the door and slid in.

“Take me home, Jeeves.” She smelled of alcohol, and her words slurred together.

“Yes, ma’am,” Kirby said, smiling politely.

He knew better than to engage her in conversation. For several minutes, she watched the city pass by outside her window.

Kirby’s thoughts were broken when she said, “Hey.”

He looked in the rearview mirror to see Felicity studying him through unfocused eyes. “Yeah?”

“Have we made it before?”

“What?”

“You and me. Have we hooked up?”

“No.”

“Are you sure?” Felicity asked, a drunken smile on her face.

“I’m positive.”

“If you say so,” she said and turned back to the window.

A couple of quiet minutes passed before she said, “Do me a favor and stop.”

“Why?”

“Please stop!” she begged, her voice now full of panic.

Kirby yanked the wheel to the right, bouncing the car into a mattress store parking lot. Felicity pushed open the door and tumbled from the rear seat to the ground. Kirby turned and watched her.

She regained her footing but stayed bent over at the waist, heaving. Nothing came out. Finally, she stuck her finger down her throat and vomited.

When Felicity finished retching, she jammed her finger into her mouth a second time. After the new torrent of vomit was through, she wiped her lips with the back of her hand and climbed into the car.

“That’s better.”

Kirby just stared at her.

“Drive, Jeeves!” she shouted with a laugh and returned to watching the city pass by her window.

At Felicity’s destination, the Bear Creek Apartments, she climbed out unsteadily and held on to the door. “Hey, Jeeves?”

Kirby looked back. She swayed as she held on to the door; her dress had twisted around her and gathered at her waist. Her eyes were unfocused, and her smile drooped. “I bet you wanna come upstairs with me,” she said in slurred words.

With a scrunched face, Kirby said, “I think I’ll pass.”

A pouty look passed over her face. Then she stood upright and slammed the door. As Kirby drove away, Felicity was bent over, sticking her finger down her throat again.

***

Kirby called it a night after that. He returned to his one-bedroom basement apartment.

It had been a long day, and he wanted to unwind before heading to bed. He powered on his computer, then headed into the kitchen to make a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. He poured a glass of milk, grabbed his plate, and returned to the computer.

The first stop was Twitter to check his feed. He followed everyone from Budgets are Sexy to Mystery Money Man. Personal finance was his obsession.

He ate his sandwich and read several blog posts recommended by Rockstar Finance. Then he went to Coach Carson for an article about investing in out-of-town real estate. Next, he visited Guy on FIRE to read his latest article about why he hated tax refunds.

Once he was done reading blog posts, he wanted to see how the night’s live webinar went with his friend, Frugal McDougal. He had built a substantial following around his advice and cutting humor. Kirby was hoping to pick up a nugget or two of wisdom he could apply to his own life.

The message board on In Frugal We Trust was lit up with questions about why the webinar hadn’t started and where was Frugal McD? It wasn’t like him to miss a webinar.

Kirby was disappointed he wouldn’t get to watch a replay of the session, but he would reach out to Frugal in the morning.

He put the plate and glass in the kitchen sink and went to bed.