Philippe Djian - Betty Blue

“Listen, miss, I don’t think I can do myself myself.”

I shoved my barrel up his nose.

“No, no… wait… I’ll give it a try!!”

He did the best he could-he used his forehead, his teeth, his knees-but he made it. Now that all three of them were tied up, I relieved them of their guns, then I straightened up and looked over at lover-boy, bound tight to his chair. He had circles of joy under his eyes.

Henry was whining, growling, and swearing. A stream of drool ran down his face to the linoleum. Since I didn’t want any fuss, I grabbed the roll of tape and crouched down next to him. His foot was still pouring blood. His sandal was ruined. I congratulated myself on having bought the large size-there were still at least ten yards left, ideal for guys like me who are bad at tying knots. He looked up at me and turned red.

“You dirty fucking whore,” he said. “If I ever get ahold of you, you’ll start by sucking my dick!”

I knocked his front teeth out when I shoved the barrel in his mouth. Even a dirty fucking whore has feelings. I did it for all women who have headaches, for Maria and the others, all my sisters-in-misery: the ones that get razzed in the streets, hit on in the subways, all the women who have ever met a Henry. If I hadn’t left mine at home, I swear I would have made him eat a box of Tampax. Sometimes when I see how men are, it makes me want to send a blessing to all the world’s women-I don’t know why I don’t. He spit up a little blood. In his anger, a few small blood vessels in his eyes had burst. I had to pull my gun out of his mouth to gag him. This gave him a chance to say one last word:

“You just signed your death warrant.”

I refrained from crying on the office equipment. I wanted silence. I wound the tape a few extra times over his eyes. He was starting to look like the Invisible Man, only shinier and a little more crumpled. The other two were quieter-I merely stuck a symbolic piece of tape over their crummy mouths. I stood up, thinking that the hard part was over. The idea made me smile. I didn’t want to contradict myself-I pretended that I didn’t know that the hard part always lies ahead.

Though I still felt completely calm, I didn’t want to drag my ass. I picked up the money bags. I broke open the clasps and emptied them onto the desk-six sacks full of bills, with rolls of coins at the bottom. I put the bills in my bag. I left the change, afraid that it would be too heavy. I was on my way out the door when the young guy yelled, to get my attention. He motioned with his chin to the wall safe. What a nice boy-he had foresight. But I had a nice wad of bills already. I wasn’t looking to become independently wealthy. I mimed that, really, this would do nicely, thanks. He looked like he was going to cry. Since the others couldn’t see me, I took a ballpoint pen from the desk and came up behind him. I opened one of his hands and wrote JOSEPHINE in it. He closed his fingers with the tenderness of someone holding a butterfly with a broken leg. Just before going out the window I turned and noticed a big tear roll down his cheek. The yard was overgrown and deserted. I ran through the weeds and jumped over the wall on the other side. My throat was dry, probably from not having said a word all afternoon. I turned right, holding onto my tits for dear life, and ran past the backyards at a sprint without seeing anyone, then crossed a big vacant lot which went right up to the railroad tracks. I climbed the embankment without slowing down, crossed over the tracks, and went down the other side. My lungs were on fire. Luckily, the supermarket parking lot was close by. It was the best I could do to keep my car from standing out-my LEMON YELLOW sedan.

Nobody noticed me as I slipped into the front seat. Nobody ever notices anything in a supermarket parking lot-it’s the kind of place that drives you half crazy. I was dripping sweat all over. I put the bag down next to me and looked around while I caught my breath. Nearby, a fat lady was trying to stuff an ironing board into a Fiat 500. We stared at each other for a few seconds. I waited. She finally drove off with her door open, leaving me alone. I opened the glove compartment. I took out some Kleenex and makeup remover-hypoallergenic. Twenty percent of its ingredients were inert, and the other eighty percent weren`t too exciting either.

I unfolded the Kleenex between my legs, keeping an eye on the parking lot. I soaked it with the makeup remover. No one was around. I held my breath, then shoved my face into it. For the first time that afternoon, I felt a little sick. I flung the used tissue out the window. The plastic bottle let out obscene noises and spurts of white gunk. I scrubbed as if I wanted to take my skin off. I ripped off my glasses, I ripped off my wig, I ripped off my falsies, and stuffed everything in my bag. Out of breath, I turned the rearview mirror toward me. All that was left was a little tan spot. I wiped it off in one swipe. Josephine was all gone now, wiped away onto small pieces of tissue. I wadded them up into a ball and threw them under my tires as I pulled away.

I drove home slowly. I got there just in time to turn off the front burner on the stove. I watched the black contents twist and sizzle in the bottom of the saucepan. I opened the windows, then went up into the attic. She was smoking a cigarette, playing pick-up sticks on the mattress. A gold light poured in through the roof, making the dust particles dance. I threw the bag on the bed. She jumped.

“Shit, you made me move,” she said.

I slid in next to her.

“Boy, baby, am I ever wasted…”

I ran my fingers through her hair. She smiled.

“So, how’d it go with your customer?” she asked. “You hungry? I heated up the ravioli downstairs.”

“I’m fine. Don’t worry about me…”

I finished off a stale beer that was sitting there. Then I opened the bag.

“Look what I found during my travels…” I said.

She raised herself up on one elbow.

“My God, what’s all this money?! Jesus, there’s piles of it!!”

“Yeah, there’s quite a bit…”

“What’s it for?”

“For whatever you want.”

She reached in to see. When her hand touched the falsies she let out a scream. She pulled the rest of my disguise out of the bag. It seemed to interest her more than the money. Her eyes were like Christmas Eve.

“Ooooo, what is all this?”

I had decided not to go into it. I shrugged my shoulders.

“I don’t know,” I said.

She lifted the bra up by a strap. The boobs spun gently, in the infinitely tender light that enveloped us. Like a merry-go-round. It seemed to hypnotize her.

“Holy shit, you absolutely have to put this on-it’s incredible!!”

But I didn’t feel much like clowning around. Suddenly the day`s caper had wiped me out.

“You’re kidding,” I said.

“Shit no, hurry up…”

I pulled up my shirt and put it on. Betty got up on her knees to applaud. I struck a few poses, batting my eyes. As one might have expected, I wound up putting on the wig and gloves too. I hadn’t wanted to, but seeing her have so much fun was like witnessing a miracle.

“Hey, you know what’s missing?” she said.

“Yeah, a plastic vagina…”

“A makeup session!”

“Oh no…” I whined.

She sprang to her feet, all excited.

“Don’t move-I’ll get my makeup kit…”

“All right…” I sighed. “But don’t fall down the stairs, honeybunch…”

Around one o’clock in the morning, I whispered one last word in her ear, as she dozed in my arms:

“By the way, while I’m thinking of it… if anyone ever asks where I was today-we spent the whole day together.”

“Right. Even though I spent the afternoon fucking a gorgeous blonde…”