Chapter 3

I quickly discovered that Gianluca, Piero, and Ignazio were very active, and they were constantly going biking, swimming, hiking, and leaving for trips to the beach. They always invited me along, but I declined every time and spent much of the last week in Los Angeles hiding from them in the condo. I spent most of the time I wasn't learning from Valerie researching the best photo spots, and I escaped multiple times to go for blissful romps throughout the city with my camera. I traveled by taxi around the enormous landscape, then explored on foot climbing mountains and hills and trees to get the best shots, and I slipped out at five in the morning and in the evening to get brilliant sunrise and sunset pictures. These were the times I had the most fun during the week, fulfilling my photographic desires and ambitions as I admired the successfully captured scenes. I became reunited with my familiar excursions as I dashed around in an exhilarated rush hunting for the best views.

Though I should have been exited for the start of the Il Volo tour, I was instead filled with a sense of dread. Coming back from my frenzied explorations of Los Angeles to the condo filled with Valerie's photos of Il Volo dimmed my delight and reminded me that I was now expected to be a portrait artist instead of one thriving on landscapes.

Finally, the day we were to leave arrived. We all packed up our suitcases and I packed my camera equipment, and the boys, Michele, Barbara, and I loaded our things into cabs. It was early in the morning, before the sun had yet risen, and I said a fond good-bye to Valerie in the morning darkness and issued a silent one to Los Angeles.

I was hoping to sit next to Michele or Barbara on the plane, but was disappointed when Ignazio sat beside me instead, with Piero beside him. Piero immediately put in his headphones and went to sleep, but Ignazio didn't follow suit.

"Hi, Tamzin," he said, turning to me and smiling sweetly after we had taken to the air.

I glanced up from my National Geographic magazine and then looked back down.

"Aren't you going to tell me hello?" he teased, his eyes shining playfully.

I looked up and raised an eyebrow, then turned my attention back to the magazine.

"Hi Ignazio," I said, emphasizing a "g" sound and mispronouncing it on purpose. He smiled.

"It's Ignazio. No "g" sound."

"Yeah, okay," I said, not looking up. I reached into my bag and pulled out the tour schedule Michele had given me. We were starting with Latin America, which I had never been to and was ecstatic to view the landscapes. The first place we were headed to was Mexico- to Guadalajara, Puebla, and then Mexico City. After that we would head to a few places in Venezuela, and then we would rapidly change countries. We would go to Panama, Costa Rica, El Salvador, Nicaragua, Guatemala, Honduras, the Dominican Republic, Puerto Rico, Chile, Buenos Aires, Rio de Janeiro, someplace called Curitiba, and then Porto Alegre and Sao Paolo. The schedule was dizzying, and all of these places were to be visited before the end of October.

I returned the schedule to my bag and continued studying the magazine, observing the gorgeous landscapes contained in the pages. I observed the vast ranges of brilliant color in the skies and throughout the land, and admired the features of the earth.

As I turned the pages, I stared longingly at them as I remembered that I was supposed to be a portrait photographer now. Though I could no longer dedicate all of my time to landscapes, I was determined to slip away from the boys and capture scenes of the land at every place we stopped. I would not let them take away my dream.

"Tamzin?" Ignazio asked, and I quickly looked up, breaking from my reverie. I was surprised to find him regarding me with a gentle look of concern.

"What?"

"You look a little sad. Are you alright?"

I stared at him, momentarily speechless and caught off guard by his sensitivity.

"I-I'm fine," I said, and quickly looked away.

"What are you reading?" he asked, and I flipped the magazine shut so he could see the cover.

"Oh, National Geographic. Are you a social studies kind of girl, then?"

"No."

He waited for me to continue, but I didn't.

"Are you excited to go to Guadalajara?"

"Sure."

In fact, I was ecstatic, but not for the reasons he might have thought. I was excited to get my camera and go traveling around to get some great photos. I couldn't wait to set my eyes on a Mexican sunrise and sunset, and observe and capture a place outside the U.S.

"Ever been before?"

"Nope."

"It's a great place. We've been a few times before to do concerts."

I didn't respond, and he was quiet for a moment, watching me thumb through the pages of the magazine.

"So if you don't like social studies, then why do you like National Geographic?"

My eyes flicked up to his cheerful face, and I glowered at him, confusing him.

"What's wrong?"

What's wrong? What's wrong is that I don't want to discuss my dream job with one of the people pulling me away from it! Can't I hold onto my dreams, or is that too much to ask!?

"Did I say something wrong?"

"What are you trying to do?" I asked condescendingly, and he watched me quietly for a moment.

"What do you mean?"

I raised an eyebrow.

"I'm just trying to be friendly with you, Tamzin." He smiled suddenly and leaned in close to me. "You know, get on your good side." When I showed no hint of a response, he shrugged and asked curiously, raising an eyebrow playfully, "What are you trying to do?"

Why couldn't I have sat beside Piero or Gianluca, who were asleep!?

"I'm trying to read," I said haughtily, quieting him for a long while.

When I finished looking at the magazine, I stared out the window at the clouds, my mood improving as I daydreamed about Harrison and the pictures I could take in Mexico.

Ignazio sat quietly playing on his phone, and he eventually pulled out headphones and plugged them in. I turned my gaze away from the window to watch him, and he smiled brightly at me and offered me an earbud.

"Do you want to listen with me?"

"What are you listening to?" I asked curiously.

"Sinatra."

I stared at him in stunned silence, and he laughed.

"What?"

"I just…didn't think that a pop star would listen to Sinatra."

He laughed again.

"The boys and I listen to all types of music. And we're not pop singers, we're op-"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," I said, dismissing him as I returned to staring out the window.

I could feel him watching me, and I avoided his reflection in the window.

"Tamzin," he said gently, and I turned my head slightly and peered at him. "Have you ever listened to an Il Volo CD?"

I shook my head.

"Funny," he said thoughtfully, "I thought Michele would have sent you one with the job offer."

"He did. I…lost it," I said, but I could feel myself blushing with embarrassment as I spoke. Ignazio studied my flushed face, and I quickly turned from his gaze and tried to regain my composure.

I was surprised to feel his hand rest gently on my arm, and I looked at it and then at him, into his gentle eyes.

"I'll get you one," he said, and I quietly watched him, thinking.

"I probably won't listen to it," I warned, shrugging off his hand.

He smiled.

"I'll get one for you anyway. You should have it, now that you're part of the Il Volo team."

I looked into his earnest face and suddenly felt very small.

"But... I'm just the photographer."

He shook his head.

"Not "just." You're part of the team."

I furrowed my brow in thought and searched his face for false candor, finding none. He held out an earbud to me, and I shook my head and looked away, but looked back a minute later when he had leaned his head back against the plane seat and closed his eyes for a nap.

I watched him quietly, observing with a new curiosity his dark silky hair, the dark brows, the sweet relaxed expression, and the faint smile on his lips.