So, to what do I owe this pleasure?
I don't know if you're gonna see it that way. I have asked you to lunch to tell you I'm filing for divorce.
I hope you brought your appetite...
Why don't you give us a minute. (Artie leaves the table) Well that's nice. Invite me to a public place so you can ambush me? You think I won't make a scene?
Spare me your outrage, Tony. Accept the fact that I'm moving on with my life.
Moving on? That's what you were doing after the party last week?
I think you and I both know that didn't change anything.
Well first of all we're Italian, we don't believe in divorce. We believe in the nuclear family.
Are you listening to yourself? Despite your best efforts, I have an attorney who is going to aggressively pursue my custody of A.J. an also an equitable distribution of our assets.
Our assets?
I am through trying to get you to provide beyond the minimum I need to live.
Oh so it's fuckin' money? That's all this is to you?
After all we've been through is it so hard to own up to anything beyond that bullshit tax return?
Go stand over there, I'll call you when I'm ready.(Artie leaves again) You want money? How 'bout my forty grand you stole out of the bird feeder, that should be plenty, you're such an investment genius.
You want this to get ugly Tony, because these guys live for that.
What, you think I don't? (gets up to leave, then comes back) The only reason you have anything is 'cause of my fuckin' sweat, and you knew every step of the way exactly how it works. But you walk around that fuckin' mansion and your five-hundred dollar shoes and your diamond rings, and you act like butter wouldn't melt in your mouth. And you don't want it to get ugly. Too late.
I want what I am entitled to.
You're entitled to shit. (to Artie): She's ready to order.
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