Midnight always marked the hardest hour of my Uber shift.

After waking at five in the morning to fill shelves at my local grocer, then helping my parents in the family restaurant until ten at night, the consistent four hours of sleep per night was catching up with me.

The typical life of a first-generation Indian immigrant living Down Under. A walking, talking cliché working two jobs and taking up Uber on the side to make ends meet. Over tired and unfulfilled.

The light turned green and I accelerated the family Toyota Camry off the mark until it entered eco mode. It’s funny how my mind seemed to calm itself with the city, as if both one in the same. As the streets fell silent so did my thoughts until only the faint though drifted through like a piece of trash in the wind.

I received the faint tone of a new ride on offer, a Brad Hillard to be taken to Paramatta train station. A good forty-five-minute drive from his pick-up point on Pitt Street in the heart of Sydney, it would be a perfect to take me past home in Strathfield. It’s odd he didn’t make use of the trains though, probably a business exec who wouldn’t talk and felt above the public transport system.

Source

I pulled up outside a glass mega-structure. Proof that the city had desensitised me to design masterpieces. I was hardly amazed at anything the city had to offer nowadays, it often felt more like a prison than a place of opportunities.

“Brad?” I asked as my rear door opened.

“Yeah,” his only response.

As expected, not up for a talk and too good for the trains.

Taking the odd glance in the rear-view mirror I couldn’t help noticing he seemed agitated. Hair a mess and his face slightly blushed. Maybe he’s on his way home from an after-work party on a Thursday night. It wouldn’t be the first time I’d driven a coked-up business manager. Still odd that he didn’t want a lift directly to his house, and Paramatta of all places.

We drove without a word and the clock read 12:55 when I pulled up to his destination. As soon as the car stopped he was already out the door without a thank you, typical. I hope he wasn’t uncomfortable back there I can’t afford poor ratings from picky patrons. If I had to give away Uber driving my parents disgust would be unbearable. They purchased the family car specifically to allow me to drive for hours every night on the proviso that I split the profits.

“You’re the oldest brother Ajay! It is your duty to provide for the family no matter how hard it gets.”

I coasted down Parry Street in Strathfield and turned the Camry into our driveway, parking under the car port and switched the engine off. I pulled my phone from the dashboard holder and did a quick once over of the car to make sure everything was in order. It was then that I noticed the leather Loui Vuitton bag.

Source

Small, dark, checked and leather it would be worth a thousand dollars, easy. My heart was racing as I remember the business executive, it must have been his. I snatched it up and inspected it slowly, turning it over in my hands it looked and felt brand new. I pulled myself out of the car and shut the door, locked it and hastily made my way inside. Thankfully the rest of the house was asleep as I slunk into my room and locked the door, hit the lights and took up a seat at my desk.

At this point I was still unsure what to do. I knew Uber had a system of getting drivers numbers to find lost items, unless he left his phone in the bag. I took the opportunity to justify snooping.

I slowly pulled back the high-quality zip, revealing neatly wrapped and bundled fifty dollar bills, about a thousand of them if I had to hazard a guess…

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Thank you for reading through this whole piece! I'm going to continue to practice my writing and present it to my fellow Steamians, let me know your thoughts in the comments :)

Yours with Purpose

HarryNewman