Chapter 2

Exactly one week later, I met Il Volo's manager and their current photographer at a fancy restaurant to discuss the job offer and the contract. The photographer was a beautiful woman of about thirty who they called Valerie. She told me eagerly all about her job, and she did her best to convince me that I would have fun traveling with Il Volo. I asked suspiciously why she was leaving, and she said that she had accepted a job with a company that was stationary.

"All this activity is tiring!" she laughed, "But a young girl like yourself will easily be able to handle it!"

The manager's name was Michele Torpedine, and he was a jolly Italian man of about sixty with curly white and gray hair and a beard and mustache. He had a kind smile and gentle eyes that crinkled around the edges when he smiled. He reminded me vaguely of Mr. Masters, and I quickly began to feel comfortable with him. Throughout our dinner together, I felt as though he had come simply to get to know me rather than to discuss business. Until, that is, he slid a copy of the contract across the table to me.

"So, Tamzin," he said, and I felt my insides shrink at the sight of the contract, "Let's negotiate. What do you think of the offer?"

The pay and the benefits of the job were generous, and I knew that I couldn't go another year without accepting an offer. I reached out my hand, and Michele smiled and took a pen from his sleek black jacket.

I gripped it tightly, reminding myself that I had to sign, and I looked at Michele's eager face for comfort that it wouldn't be so bad. I looked down and quickly scribbled my name on the contract, then dropped the pen and slid it across the table, feeling as though I had just signed away my dreams.

Another week later I said my goodbyes to my parents, Harrison, and my Florida home and boarded a plane to Los Angeles, where I'd live for two weeks as Valerie mentored me on my new lifestyle before she left Il Volo's team.

I was picked up by Michele when I arrived, and as he drove me to the condo I'd be sharing with Valerie I admired the skyscrapers and palm trees surrounding me, possible landscape photos dancing through my mind. When we reached the condos, I met Barbara Vitali, Il Volo's road manager, and she seemed sweet and excited to meet me. Then Valerie took me to the condo we'd be sharing and helped me unpack my suitcase, but I insisted that I be the only one to handle my photography equipment. As a photographer herself, she understood. She gave me some time to recover from the powerful jetlag I went through before she started coaching me, and then our work began. She explained more about what it was like to be Il Volo's photographer, and she showed me her work and the different angles she had played with. She told me stories about the boys, and I listened politely, though I was unamused. I didn't particularly want to know more about the boys than was necessary.

I learned that Gianluca was the serious part of the group, and he tended to be somewhat reserved until he ascended the stage or met with fans.

Piero was the self-proclaimed crazy one, and he was very smart and silly. He liked attention, and loved to play around onstage with Ignazio.

Ignazio was the funny one, who was always trying to make people laugh. In addition to that, he was supposedly especially sweet and kind, and was the most outgoing when it came to public appearances.

I committed this information to memory, but I was admittedly suspicious about whether Valerie was glorifying them for me or if she meant what she said about them.

I asked when I would meet them, and she told me that they were currently in Italy, spending time with their families before their touring started. She said that I'd meet them when they flew back to Los Angeles at the end of the week. They'd be in the city with us for another week before we all left to begin the touring, with me as Valerie's substitute.

I politely agreed that I was excited to meet them after the week was up, but frankly, I could wait. I could wait much longer than Michele, Barbara, and Valerie realized.

The day after the boys arrived, before I had seen them, I sat in the condo alone, excitedly scrolling through web pages about Los Angeles on my laptop. I didn't plan to leave without getting some photos of the gorgeous landscapes around me. I swooned over the skyscrapers, the palm trees, the mountains, and the bustling activity throughout the huge city. As I sat researching the best spots for landscape photography, there was a knock on the door.

"Valerie?" I called, then realized that she wouldn't have knocked since she had a key. I set the laptop aside and got up to see who was there. When I opened the door, I looked in surprise at the tall, handsome Italian boy standing on the doorstep. His hair was long and dark, and his eyes shone good-naturedly as he smiled beautifully at me. He had a short beard and mustache, and his eyebrows were thick and dark. He was broad shouldered and cheerful looking, and he laughed softly at my surprised expression, revealing his dimples.

"Good morning!" he said cheerfully in a handsome Italian accent, and I quickly adopted a solemn expression and leaned boredly against the doorframe, scrutinizing this boy I'd be following across the world.

"Oh," I said calmly, "Hi."

"You must be Tamzin," he said, unaffected by my sudden mood change.

I nodded.

"That's me. Your photographer for the next year."

"I'm glad to meet you," he said, "I'm Ignazio."

He stepped toward me and reached out to hug me, which I grudgingly allowed, and I was startled when he kissed my cheek.

"So, Tamzin," he said when he stepped back, "Michele has planned for the four of us- That's you and me, Gianluca and Piero- to go out together for dinner for some "bonding time." He's even picked the restaurant and everything, and it sounds fantastic!"

"Sure, I'll go," I said calmly, not wanting to reject Michele's offer.

Ignazio smiled.

"I don't think you have much of a choice," he said, "Michele says it's mandatory. It'll be fun, though, don't you think?"

He smiled expectantly at me, and I didn't respond, raising an eyebrow instead.

"The other boys and I will be here to get you at seven. Sorry they're not here now, but apparently I'm the appointed pageboy."

He leaned toward me and grinned slyly, putting his hand up as if he was telling me a secret. "Or maybe they're just too lazy to leave the condo."

I couldn't resist smiling softly, and when Ignazio seemed pleased I quickly regained my composure.

"Wear something nice, it's a fancy place," he said as he stepped off the welcome mat and turned slightly to leave. "I'll see you toni-"

I stepped back and closed the door. I turned and leaned against it, looking over at the glorious landscape samples on my laptop, and then toward the grayscale Il Volo portrait samples on the counter and sighed. Il Volo had arrived, and they took the place of the career I had dreamed about since I was little. The boys were here, and I couldn't hide.

In the evening I dressed in a simple pleated red dress, the only dress I had taken with me, but I refused to substitute my red high-tops for any other shoes. My shoulder-length blonde hair was messy from the hike I had gone on in search of good photo spots, and I pulled it back into a ponytail and refused to take any makeup-related action to show off my blue eyes. I was ready to leave a half-hour early, and I sat down to do some more research on Los Angeles, anticipating that the three boys would be late. To my surprise, they came ten minutes early.

Hmm…So the boys were punctual. That would be good when the touring started. I went to the door and opened it, and the three boys on the doorstep smiled at me.

They all wore classy black suits and simple blue ties, except for the one with glasses, who had picked out a red bow-tie. Ignazio stood in the middle, and he gave me a playful bow.

"Good evening, Madame," he said in a deep voice, stepping forward to hug me and kiss my cheek again. I raised an eyebrow at him when he stepped away and turned away from him to look over the other two boys.

Gianluca was as handsome in real life as he was in photos, with his contemplative expression, serious dark eyes, and silky hair. His mouth turned up at the corner under my gaze, and he stepped past Ignazio to introduce himself as he hugged me and kissed my cheek, which again surprised me. Maybe it was common in Italy or something. I turned to observe Piero.

He was sweet-looking, with playful brown eyes framed by the bright red glasses. He smiled wide at me, and stepped forward to hug and kiss me like the others had and to introduce himself. Yep, definitely must be Italian.

"I'm Tamzin Montgomery," I said simply, "I'm your photographer."

"Shall we go, Tamzin?" Ignazio asked, dramatically offering me his arm and waiting for me to take it. I looked curiously at it, and then up at Ignazio.

"Yes. Let's go," I said, stepping around him and walking in front of the three to the waiting taxi.

The restaurant was beautiful, with tall ceilings and brilliant red tablecloths, and lovely flickering candles and violin music that made me catch my breath when I walked in.

"Wow! Michele has outdone himself!" Piero said, shaking his head at me and smiling sweetly.

We went to our table and took our seats, and I kept quiet as I observed the friendly and playful interactions of the boys.

Valerie's opinions seemed correct, as Piero seemed silly and mischievous, Ignazio teased the other two boys and told funny stories, and Gianluca was reserved except when the other boys turned their attention on him. Each of them took turns trying to pull me into the conversation, but I preferred to sit back and scrutinize them. They loved to tease each other, and they all were playful and good-natured. They acted very gentle with me, and weren't deterred from speaking to me when I resisted conversion and observed each one of them. Still, I longed to be out and about in Los Angeles, spending the evening snapping photos instead of dining with three pop stars. I wondered if their cheerful disposition would fall away after I saw more of them, and was reminded of my Harrison colleagues who told stories of singers that were kind at first and demanding later on. I wondered which one would crack first and gazed suspiciously at them, overlooking their silly jokes and stories. When I turned my gaze specifically on Ignazio, he gave me a bright smile back and turned slightly toward me.

"So, Tamzin," he said, leaning toward me and studying my face, "Tell us about your career. How did you become such a good photographer?"

"I started young," I said simply, wondering if he actually liked my photos or if he was making conversation. He seemed pretty genuine, but I was determined not to be fooled, as many celebrities are masters of deceit.

"Yes, but many photographers start young," Piero said, turning my attention away from Ignazio's sweet smile, "And they don't get as good as you."

I sat up straighter and lifted my chin, hoping to display that I took photography seriously and that I expected not to be overlooked.

"I started attending The Harrison Academy of Film and Photography when I was only eleven. I was a rare case. Most people can't get in at all, especially since they only train three hundred students a year."

"Wow," Ignazio encouraged, and the others nodded agreeably.

"Michele showed us your portrait work when he was searching for a new photographer," Gianluca said, "You are an artist! And at such a young age, too!"

I scowled at him.

"I'm the same age as you!" I snapped, determined not to let him condescend to me. Gianluca looked immediately apologetic, and Ignazio, apparently always the joker, attempted to diffuse the situation.

"Yes, but we're extraordinary young men," he said, leaning back with his hands behind his head and smiling at me in mock smugness.

Piero and Gianluca laughed, and Piero reached over and shoved him lightly. Ignazio reached out to tousle Piero's dark hair, causing him to protest and lean swiftly away as he laughed.

I didn't laugh, and stared seriously at the horseplaying boys until they quieted and the three of them were watching me.

"So it may seem," I said boredly, delicately picking up my wine glass filled with root beer and taking a sip as they looked at me with stunned surprise, and then at each other.