Philippe Djian - Betty Blue

“That girl you were with…” she hissed, “I saw her take off with my son…!”

“What girl?” I said.

By the time my words hit their ears, I had already jumped over three tables and was halfway inside the restaurant. I left them in the dust. Pack of witches. I heard them roaring, hot on my heels. I managed to close the door of the men’s room before they got me. They didn’t have the key. I held the door, looking around frantically. The waiter was finishing taking a piss. He raised his eyebrows. I pulled out a wad of bills. He agreed to hold the door for me. Behind the thin wooden panel, inlaid with cardboard Masonite, you could hear the women pounding and screaming. It was the kind of door you can go through like a ricecake, with one good kick. I stuffed two more bills in his pocket. Then I climbed out the window.

I found myself in a small courtyard leading to the kitchen. The garbage cans were overflowing, rusted in the sun. A cook came out, wiping the sweat off the back of his neck. I got an idea. Before he could open his mouth, I pulled out a bill and stuck it in his pocket, smiling. He smiled back. I felt like I had a magic wand-like with a little practice I could make doves appear. I took off through the back door, out into the street. I hotfooted it. I ran up the street, turning off at intersections, doing the sorts of things you can still do at thirty-five if you’ve stayed in shape. Leaping over parked cars, for example, or pulverizing your personal record for the four-hundred-yard dash-all the while looking behind yourself. After a while I thought I’d lost them. I stopped for a minute to catch my breath. There was a chair. I sat down.

I tried to think clearly and calmly. All I had to do, though, was think of her, and it was like a dragon coming and breathing flames on my brain, reducing everything to ashes. It was all I could do to stand back up, but I had the feeling that if I did, the rest would follow. I headed back toward the beach, keeping close to the wall. A warm breeze had come up. I had a mouth full of cotton. I came to the main drag and spotted my car parked in the distance. My first thought was to comb the city behind the wheel, but then I thought: Okay… so there you are-walking around with a kid who just spent two hours in the sun because his mother’s a jerk, and now Tommy’s tongue is hanging three yards out of his mouth-what do you do? Since you are not the kind of girl who goes chopping up little boys in dark alleys… what do you do?

Up the block, standing in the shade of a tree, was an ice cream vendor. I crossed the street, looking around. When he saw me coming, he took the cover off his freezer.

“Single? Double? Triple?” he asked.

“Nothing, thanks. You haven’t by any chance seen a pretty brunette with a little boy about three or four years old, have you?

They didn’t come by to get an ice cream…?”

“Yeah. The girl wasn’t as pretty as all that, though…”

I have often met people who are insensitive to beauty. I’ve never been able to figure out what their problem is, but I’ve always pitied them.

“My poor man, did you see which way they went…?”

“Yes.”

I waited for a few seconds. I ripped my guts open and got out my billfold. The regional customs were no longer amusing-I wanted to jam the whole wad down his throat. A small cloud of steam came out of the freezer. I gave him two bills without looking at him, felt them slide out of my hand.

“They went into the toy store over there. The little boy had blue eyes, Ire was about three feet tall-he got a double-dip strawberry. He wore a medal around his neck. It was about three o’clock. Now, the girl…”

“That’s enough,” I said. “Don’t tell me too much, you’ll lose money…”

The store had three levels. A wan little salesgirl came over to me, with the look one often sees in the eyes of those who work for minimum wage. I got rid of her. There weren’t many people. I combed the ground floor, then went upstairs. I hadn’t forgotten that the savage horde was still hot on our heels; I knew that sooner or later they’d catch up with us. I was starting to get used to this sort of atmosphere-it seemed to follow Betty and me wherever we went. But hey, I told myself, we all have our moments. You have to be patient in life. I went through all the departments without finding her. I felt myself getting warmer, though. Burning, in fact. I went up to the top floor like I was climbing Mount Sinai.

Behind the counter stood a guy smiling, his arm resting on a pile of gift-wrapped packages. He had a manager’s smile, and a double-breasted blazer with an overly exuberant pocket handkerchief. He was none too young-his skin sagged low under his eyes. His hanky looked like a small fireworks display. The minute he saw me he rushed over, grimacing or smiling-I couldn’t figure out which-miming someone washing their hands.

“Excuse me, sir, but this level is closed.”

“Closed?” I said.

I swept the place with my eyes. It seemed empty. On this floor they sold dart guns, cowboy suits, bows and arrows, robots, pedal cars-what you’d imagine. I breathed. I knew Betty was there.

“Perhaps you could come back another time…” he suggested.

“Listen, all I need is a laser missile-launching rifle-no gift wrapping. It’ll just take a minute…”

“I’m afraid that’s impossible. We’ve rented the entire floor to a customer.”

“BETTY!” I called.

The guy tried to stop me, but I got past him. I heard him running, cursing behind me as I raced through the shelves, but he couldn’t get near me-my body heat was radiating in all directions. I went all the way to the back of the store. I didn’t find her. I stopped dead. The guy almost ran into me.

“Where is she?” I asked.

He didn’t answer. I started to strangle him.

“Jesus Christ, she’s my wife! I have to know where she is!”

He pointed to a platform with an Indian village on it.

“They’re in the Chief’s Teepee, but she doesn’t want to be disturbed,” he sputtered.

“Which one is it?”

“The one on sale. It’s a very good buy…”

I let go of his blazer, then climbed up onto the reservation. I went straight to the Chief’s Teepee. I lifted the flap. Betty was smoking the peace pipe.

“Come in,” she said. “Come in and sit down with us.”

Tommy was wearing a headdress. He seemed totally relaxed.

“Hey, Betty, who’s he?” he asked.

“He’s the man in my life,” she joked.

I crawled into the tent.

“It’s crease-resistant,” said the store manager, behind me.

I looked at Betty and nodded.

“Hey, you know his mother’s looking all over for him? You know, we ought to get out of here…”

She sighed, looking put-out.

“Okay. Give us five more minutes,” she said.

“No way.”

So saying, I leaned over and picked Tommy up under my arm. I almost got a tomahawk in the ear. I blocked it in midflight.

“Don’t complicate things, Tommy, sweetheart,” I said.

I walked over to the store manager. He was standing there, stiff as a tin soldier.

“We’re going to leave him with you,” I said. “His mother’s coming by to get him in five minutes. Tell her we couldn’t wait.”

He looked like I’d told him he was getting a tax audit.

“What do you mean…?”

I shoved Tommy into his arms, then felt Betty’s hand on my shoulder.

“Wait just a second,” she said. “I want to pay for all the presents.”

We had to move fast. Navigate through reefs, calculate all risks. I got my money out, sensing a serious rise in my fever. Then one of two things happened; either I started getting delirious, or I heard voices coming from downstairs.