The Idolmaster

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  Dalton leans forward in his chair as I crash back into mine, stunned by the news that saving Miu might set me back some twenty million yen. I’m still in the clutches of absolute shock when Dalton speaks up.

  “A gig like this – I end up knowing people,” he begins. I can’t see where exactly this is going.

  “Is that a threat, Dalton-san?” the man asks. The muscle that flanks him stiffen reflexively. I’m suddenly all nerves.

  “No, no, forgive me,” Dalton says, taking it all too light-heartedly, “my command of your language is… amateur at best. What I meant to say is I have contacts. In the industry.”

  “And what industry would that be?”

  “Porn, of course,” and in case it isn’t clear enough, he thrusts a finger of one hand through a hole he makes with the other, “good old fashioned skin-flicks. Miu could be an AV Idol.”

  “Is that right?” our guest says, capping his obvious interest with a careful calm, reluctant to give away any emotion in case they spoil his potential hand. With twenty-mil, paid out over ten years, he’s looking at flush at best. We’re offering royal. I’m as impressed as his goons obviously are – I wasn’t away Dalton had any such ‘contacts’ – knew anyone high enough to foist a girl onto and say fuck her, film her.

  “That’s right,” Dalton continues confidently, “enough scouts owe me enough favours to make it happen.”

  “AV Idols have short careers, Mr. Dalton,” he starts coyly, looking to get as much out of this as possible, “I’m sure a man such as yourself – a man with such contacts – knows.”

  “Right, right,” Dalton replies, seemingly in control, “Say ten – maybe fifteen million for her first cycle. But it’s not unheard of such… stars to become mainstream idols. Work that scene for a couple of years, make some innocent yen and boost their fan base. Could even head back to the adult leagues with the boosted numbers and net thirty million for an eight picture deal. I don’t know – I’m not a numbers man,” – he is – “you figure it out.”

  He’d started working it out, of course, a long time before Dalton had suggested he do so. The minute Dalton’s cards were on the table he’d been summing up the possibilities. You could see it going on behind the front, the gears working at hyperspeed.

  “More and more,” he begins very solemnly, “I find myself liking you Americans.”

  He smiles.

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~ by Joseph Blame on January 31, 2011.

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