Audition by Ryu Murakami Read Free Book Online Page A

you describe a vivid dream you’ve had recently?
    Do you ever experience sleep paralysis?
    Are you interested in UFOs?
    Do you consider yourself beautiful?
    As a child, what did you want to be when you grew up?
    What are your views on marriage? And adultery?
    What’s the first thing you order at a sushi bar?
    Have you ever considered working in the sex industry? Or as a bar hostess?
    Have you ever been tempted to experiment with drugs?
     
    ‘Why are you making me ask all the questions?’ Yoshikawa was saying. ‘Don’t tell me you’ve lost interest now that we’ve reached the moment of truth.’
        Yoshikawa seemed genuinely pissed off, and Aoyama decided it would be best to tell all. He asked the photographer to step outside for a moment so they could confer in private.
        ‘Good lord,’ Yoshikawa said with a wry chuckle after hearing about Yamasaki Asami. He found her résumé and essay and read through them, then peered at the photo.
        ‘You can’t tell anything from this, though,’ he said. ‘It’s dangerous to base your decision on the application alone.’
        ‘I know that. But I just have this feeling about her. Besides, all the others leave me flat. What can I do?’
        ‘Intuition, eh? Is that what you’re telling me? “Trust your intuition, and the universe will guide you”?’
        ‘What’s that?’
        ‘An old saying, isn’t it?’
        ‘Whose old saying?’
        ‘How should I know?’ Yoshikawa sighed. ‘Look, you need more information. You have to talk to the other women too, if only for comparison’s sake. Isn’t that what we’re here for? I’ll admit there’s something strangely attractive about this Asami-chan of yours, but  . . .’
        His flippant use of the diminutive ‘chan’ was all it took to stir Aoyama’s own anger.
        ‘Yoshikawa, I think you know damn well how serious I am about this.’
        ‘I’m serious too, you ass. So don’t expect me to be thrilled that you’ve made up your mind on the basis of a photo and an essay.’
        ‘You’re the one who said the essays give you the best sense of who a person is. The written word doesn’t lie. You can always tell if it’s coming from the heart or not.’
        Yoshikawa was silent for a moment.
        ‘That’s bullshit,’ he said softly. ‘But all right. I’ll pay special attention to her too. Just please ask a few questions of the others as well. I called in a lot of favours to get that programme on the air – and even to secure this room.’
        ‘Fair enough.’
        The candidates represented a variety of types. One was a 28-year-old who’d graduated in French studies from a national university, spent three years in Paris as a member of a project team for a major trading company, become a clothing designer on her return to Japan, opened a boutique in Los Angeles and lived another three years in Malibu, then got bored with it all and began drawing illustrations for children’s books. She was built like a fashion model and was wearing an outfit of woven hemp dyed in primary colours that she attributed to some Moroccan designer. She was also trained in classical ballet and said she felt that she alone was capable of undertaking such a ‘sensitive and nuanced’ role. Aoyama was sure there was no way he could keep up with a woman like this. Another applicant had appeared in over thirty ‘adult’ films, had twice tried to commit suicide, had been institutionalised three times and was now, at thirty-three, a yoga instructor. She showed them the scars on her left wrist as if displaying her most valued treasure. Several of the women came with their managers in tow. One of the managers literally got down on his hands and knees, prostrating himself. ‘Please favour us with your consideration!’ he screeched, as if begging for his life. One of the women claimed to be psychic and offered to describe the guardian spirits attached to both of them: