“None of them knew how racist she actually was, the things she’d said in the past, which made it bizarre beyond words and, yet, appropriate. Appropriate because, she, the liar, would never figure out that she had, by his own admission no less, been manipulated by a con man, a smooth-talking flim flam artist, who had taken her time and money, used their friendship, for himself. She had no expertise in that area, but it, apparently, never occurred to her that she was the last person he should be turning to, for help, or anything else, that it made no sense. She’d been played. She was evil and self-serving, but she was also naive and dumb, and, if she was fucking him, she was the epitome of monumental stupidity.”

(No 20-something, cosplaying hustler has any real interest in an old, wrinkled, lily-white suburban bred basket case for anything other than a bank account, genius. If he were "making it," he wouldn't need someone like you to fund his daydreams.)