Free Audition by Ryu Murakami Page B

I’m the one who’s got it all wrong. Let me just say, though, that I’ve never met anyone like you either, Yamasaki-san.’
        ‘Really? In what sense?’
        ‘Most young women who aspire to the entertainment industry are fairly blasé about eating in places like this, for example. Once they’ve spent a few years with the title “aspiring actress”, a lot of these women get pretty hardened without even realising it. They acquire a certain, I don’t know, sordidness about them. They seem to take it for granted that men will line up to lavish gifts upon them and treat them to expensive meals. My work is mainly documentaries and PR films, but even I see plenty of that hardened, grasping type of young women.’
        ‘I see. Human nature is frightening, isn’t it?’
        ‘But you’re not like that at all,’ he said. ‘You’re very . . . very real .’
        She smiled shyly and looked down at the table.
        ‘Thank you,’ she said.
        It was the first time in ages that Aoyama had shared a deeply satisfying meal with a lady. Yamasaki Asami was even freer of affectation than he’d dared to imagine. And what she said to him as they were leaving the restaurant left him feeling ecstatic.
        ‘I’d like to ask a favour of you,’ she said. ‘It may seem awfully brazen, but . . . I’ve been struggling on my own for so long, and I don’t really have anyone to talk to and ask for advice. No one mature and trustworthy, at least. I have that mentor at Victor, but the truth is I’ve never even had direct contact with him, only through a friend of mine. I can’t help thinking how wonderful it would be if I could talk things over with someone like you from time to time. I know how busy you must be, and of course I mean only when you have time to spare, and naturally a soba shop or a family restaurant, anywhere at all would be fine, or even over the telephone  . . .’
        As they waited for the elevator, Aoyama handed her his business card, with the telephone number of his office. She smiled and clasped the card to her heart, as if cradling it. Gazing through the big windows of the elevator hall, Aoyama felt as if he could spread his arms and sail out over the streets of Tokyo.
     
    ‘I was amazed,’ he told Yoshikawa over the telephone as soon as he got back to his office. He was aware of a lingering tension raising the pitch of his voice. ‘You just don’t find young women like that these days.’
        Aoyama recounted the salient points of his conversation with Yamasaki Asami. It seemed as if every word had been engraved in his memory.
        ‘She’s so modest and sweet and uncomplicated. Which means, I suppose, that she’s not really suited to being an actress, but . . . There’s just something very real and solid about her.’
        ‘Oh yeah?’ Yoshikawa said in a rather cold tone of voice. ‘Well, I have to be a wet blanket, but you know where I stand on this. Something doesn’t seem right about this woman. You didn’t tell her the real purpose of the audition, did you?’
        ‘Of course not,’ Aoyama said with some asperity. Yoshikawa didn’t understand, but then Yoshikawa hadn’t shared a lunch with her. Maybe he was just envious. Aoyama had exceeded both their expectations, after all, by finding what looked to be the ideal woman.
        ‘I found out a little more about this Shibata character at Victor,’ Yoshikawa said, and Aoyama groaned inwardly. ‘He produced a number of hits in the seventies. Fairly well respected in the industry, but there was always a lot of talk about his womanising. Granted, there’s nothing unusual about a record producer taking on singers or actresses as protégées, or privately handling their management for them, or, let’s face it, privately handling their bodies once in a while. But it seems that once Shibata lost most of his power in the industry – especially during the last few years of his career – he used the