“Public image,” I said weakly.
“So it is in the interests of the Mob that Don Bruce has provided you with what you have failed to provide yourself … namely: a moll. If you do not like this one, we can take her back and get another, but a moll you must have if we are to continue in our existing carefree manner. Otherwise…” He paused dramatically.
“Otherwise…?” I prompted.
“If you do not maintain the appearance of a successful Mob member, Don Bruce will be forced to deal with you as if you were unsuccessful. . . know what I mean?”
I suddenly felt the need to massage my forehead. “Terrific.”
“My sentiments exactly. Under the circumstances, however, I thought it wisest to accept his gift in your name and hope that you could find an amicable solution to our dilemma at a later date.”
“I suppose you’re . . . Hey! Wait a minute. We already have Massha and Tananda in residence. Won’t they do?”
Guido gave his sigh again. “This possibility did indeed occur to me as well. Then I said to myself: ‘Guido, do you really want to be the one to hang the label of moll on either Massha or Tananda, knowing those ladies as you do? Even if it will only be bantered around the Mob?’ Viewed in that light, it was my decision to go along with Don Bruce’s proposal and leave it to you to make the final decision … Boss.”
I shot a sharp glance at him for that last touch of sarcasm. Despite his affected speech patterns and pseudo-pompous explanations, I occasionally had the impression that Guido was far more intelligent than he let on. At the moment, however, his face was a study in innocence, so I let it ride.