Part Six: The Frenemy
After his one-off stint as an extra on The Practice, there were no other acting roles for Daniel X. It seemed the death of old John Candy left a void that not even “The New John Candy” could fill. He gave up on acting, left L.A. and moved to Phoenix where he was staying with a friend.
After not hearing from him for a few months, he called me up at work after one day. At first it was just casual chitchat. “How are things going? How’s work? Are you dating anyone?” And then, BAM! “Oh, yeah, remember that trunk you are holding for me, could you mail me the contents?” Not, “Could I send you a check for the shipping expense to mail me my belongings?” There was no empty promise attached; he was just asking for an outright favor.
I’d recently transitioned out of radio into a job where I did a lot of postal and UPS shipping, which Daniel knew. He knew all the angles to get what he wanted. I could have said “No” and been done with it. But I figured that this was as good a time as any to unload this trunk and its icky contents. I agreed and he thanked me. He was never as short on “Thank you’s” as he was on cash.
A few months after that I got yet another call from him. I rarely heard from him during this period, but when I did it was always for a favor. He didn’t have a job or any prospects in Phoenix. He was still writing erotica for the gay magazines and just barely making it. He began to ask me about myself, but I knew that a favor could not be too far from the asking. As if on cue: “I need a favor from you….”
His mother was ill and he needed to come back to the Chicago area for a little while. At first I was thinking – no, dreading – that he was going to ask me for a place to stay. At that point I think I was strong enough to say “No”. Him staying with me was absolutely not going to happen. To my surprise, that was not what he wanted. He was hoping the Greyhound back to Chicago and wanted to know if he could get a ride across the border into Indiana where his family lived. “I’ll give you gas money,” he said. I agreed, knowing that there was at least a 50% chance I’d be paying for my own fuel. I don’t know why I said yes. Even from several thousand miles away Daniel worked his weird, warped magic on me.
The ride to Indiana was about an hour and half on the Chicago Skyway. Daniel provided $10.00 in gas money a promised, but when we got to the Skyway tollbooth he didn’t offer to pay the $3.00 toll. “I said I’d give you gas money,” he reminded me without a single hint of apology. He was almost insulted that I suggested he pay it. I don’t know why, but this really steamed me. After all that time and all of his antics I’d witnessed and been a party too. After all the times I lent him money or gave him a lift somewhere without asking for gas money. After all the unwarranted generosity he’d been the recipient of, he could not kick in an extra $3.00. I bit my tongue, but it festered in me.
He didn’t ask me for a ride back to the city from Indiana. I think he knew better. Either that or he couldn’t spare the gas money and didn’t want to haggle over the toll. After he returned to Phoenix, I received one of his usual witty, joke- and sarcasm-laden letters. There was not one single mention of the toll issue, not even any kind of roundabout apology. The letter was fairly upbeat and he was happy to be back in Phoenix.
It was then I decided to do something drastic: For the first time in our friendship I was going to confront him. My return letter said something to the effect of “I think it was really ungrateful and selfish for you to not pay the toll. I know it’s only $3.00. But I went way out of my way to do you a favor. It isn’t the amount that bothered me, so much as the principle.” And I basically said that I am over it now and I’m not holding any grudges or anything. But as his friend, I thought he should know that doing that was not cool. I continued the letter, filling him in on what was going on in Chicago. I thought if I said my peace that would be the end of it. I was right, in a manner or speaking.
His return letter followed soon after. Scrawled in his neat, flowing script on yellow legal pad paper, it was brief and to the point:
Dear Jeff:
It’s disappointing that you are so petty. After your recent letter I’ve decided that I no longer wish to pursue a friendship with you.
No sign-off, no return address, no apology or admission that he might have been wrong. I had to read the letter two or three times, turning it over to make sure I didn’t miss anything on the back. But that was all there was. I shared the letter with Betsy and neither of us could believe his audacity.
The equation was quite clear. The continuance of our friendship relied largely on my never calling into question his cons, scams, deceit, half-truths and general bullshit. I think he sensed that I had grown up and grown wise to his deal. For years I had been the mark in his perpetual con game. But now I had outlived my usefulness. Like any good confidence man, he’d decided there was no more profit in our association so he needed to end it. Over $3.00.
In reality it wasn’t just over that petty sum. He lost control of me, if he ever had any in the first place. I think he’d taken me for a larger sap than I actually was. He mistook my kindness for idiocy and when it was clear that I would no longer be wearing the dunce cap, he was through with me.
It was a bizarre end to a bizarre friendship. And again, I was filled with a mix of relief and regret, much the same way I felt when he went to L.A. But there was also anger that he was so ungrateful. Or maybe I was angry at myself. I knew who Daniel X. was and how he operated. His capacity selfishness in the name of self-preservation knew no bounds nor shame. Why would I think our friendship was any different? He was always more frenemy than friend, anyway. Besides, a person like that doesn’t have friends. They have unsuspecting benefactors.
After too many years, I was finally free of Daniel X. -fin-
Tune in tomorrow for the final installment of “The Odd Cons of Daniel X”…
