As if Drita wasn’t agitated enough, she now has her lunch with Renee and Natalie, and Natalie is pissed off straight out of the gate. She tells Renee that she knows the women were talking about her and she doesn’t appreciate that kind of thing. In the midst of all her angry talk, she manages to flawlessly reapply her lip gloss with the help of a butter knife and I can’t help but admire the fact that this is clearly not her first time doing that.
“Drita’s not the chick she wants to go there with,” Renee says after listening to Natalie rail on her new acquaintance. Renee situates herself in the center of the table to mediate the situation, and as soon as Drita sits down, Natalie lays into her, telling her she’s offended at the implication she was drunk when they first met. (“It’s better to be drunk than be a dickhead!” Drita says. Words to live by!)
“I’m trying to figure out, are we fighting, motherf—er?” Drita asks. “‘Cause I really don’t wanna hurt the new face of Mob Candy!”
“If I don’t like you or if I have something bad to say, I have no f—ing problem saying it,” Drita assures Natalie. Natalie says she’s the same way. Great, we can all agree on something, let’s get lunch!
Just kidding, this isn’t over yet. We’re clearly dealing with two hard-headed women and neither of them is going to take what the other has to say without a grain of salt. Or a shaker of salt. Or one of those trucks the city uses to salt the streets in the winter.
“Guess what? I’m from South Philly and nobody’s gonna f— with me and I’m not gonna stand down to nobody,” Natalie says.
Poor Renee. Her attempts at mediating didn’t go so great.