Chapter 7

I stirred and gradually came to my senses, slowly removing my arm from where it was draped over my eyes to peer around the room. I lay draped over the couch into the hotel room, my head on a pillow against one arm, and my feet, still inside my red high-tops, propped up on the other. It was cool inside the room and very bright, and the early sounds of the morning came in from the closed back door: birds chirping, cars honking, people chatting distantly as they moved outside and inside the hotel. My headphones had slipped off and were lying against my side, and the phone was stuffed into the couch cushions. I reached out and took it out, looking at it and remembering my late vigil of Il Volo music. I closed my fingers around it and pushed myself up, taking my feet from the arm of the couch and sitting up. I looked down at the phone in my hands as I reflected on the night before, remembering my new promise to give my best to Il Volo.

"I am Tamzin Montgomery, Il Volo's photographer," I said softly, and nodded in approval.

I thought about what that meant for my landscape photography passion, and I decided that I would still take pictures in every place we traveled to, as provisions for the end of my time with Il Volo. I couldn't be a photographer for National Geographic now, but I wouldn't forget that one day I would be. But I now had to recognize the importance of my current job, and give it the work it was due.

I stood up and walked to the window, pulling back the curtain to peer outside. It was very bright, and I looked at the hotel room's clock and found that it was past nine. My long night had made me sleep late into the morning. I looked back out the window and saw after a moment Ignazio sitting on the porch steps in front of his room, quietly observing the country stretched out in front of him.

I lingered on the sight of him, and thought about my previous prejudices against him. I felt as though I should feel remorseful, but in the moment I felt more cautious than penitent. I studied him, peering out the window with new consideration. His brown eyes were bright and sincere as he gazed into the distance, and there was a faint smile on his lips. His hair was long and wavy and soft-looking, and as I watched he reached up and ran his hand through it. His eyebrows were dark and thick, above eyes surrounded by slight, handsome shadows and dark lashes. He was broad-shouldered and tall, but had a gentle appearance and a sweet face.

I observed him and felt a sudden compulsion to speak with him, to make my new promise apparent to him as though to make up for our past encounters.

I let the curtain fall over the window and moved to the door, wrapping my hand around the cold knob for a moment before I lifted my chin and pushed the door open.

Ignazio turned and looked up at me as I stepped onto the porch and proclaimed, "I need to talk to you!"

I faltered when he smiled brightly and said in his Italian accent, "Of course, Tamzin! Come and sit."

He patted the space beside him on the porch, and I hesitated before closing the door and striding over, lowering myself cautiously down beside him and putting my red-high topped feet on the step next to his large blue tennis shoes.

He smiled expectantly at me, making me look immediately away, realizing I hadn't thought about what I was going to say. I stared instead at my shoes and waited for him to say something. He didn't press me, and we sat quietly side by side on the porch.

"What kind of music do you sing, again?" I eventually asked.

"Operatic pop."

"Oh…right." I fell silent again for a minute, still fumbling with what to say. "I listened to the CDs last night," I said finally, looking up to see his reaction.

He looked immediately eager, and he smiled and asked, "You did!? Which ones?"

"All of them."

He laughed.

"You listened to all of them last night? That must mean you like them, right?"

I looked away, unable to hold his eager gaze, and he quieted. Out of the corner of my eye I watched his smile fade as he waited, and I tried to cast off my pride at the original determination not to listen to the CDs.

"I loved them," I admitted, and could feel him smiling beside me in approval.

"I'm glad," he said gently, and I nodded and listened to the sounds of the morning, fully aware of him beside me as I fumbled to find something to say.

"So…how's your morning going?" he asked finally, disrupting the silence between us.

"Ignazio," I said, finding my voice and turning toward him, positioning myself on the steps to face him. He turned slightly toward me also, looking at me with those earnest eyes as I found the simple words to say, "I am Il Volo's photographer." I watched as his eyebrows furrowed in confusion at my declaration, and when he opened his mouth to speak I shook my head and continued, trying to assure him I meant it. "You, and the other boys, and Michele and Barbara are going to be very impressed with me. I'm going to get photos so brilliant you wouldn't believe I could get them until you see them for yourself." I looked down in embarrassment at my shoes as I muttered, "Let's just say that my work so far was…practice." I looked back up at him to make sure he was paying attention as I continued, holding his gaze to make him listen. "I'm going to be the best photographer Il Volo has ever had. You won't be disappointed in me."

I gazed confidently back at him, daring him to challenge my determination. He looked surprised and confused, and then he nodded and smiled at me.

"I don't doubt it, Tamzin," he said gently, and I nodded.

"Good. Don't. "

I stood up suddenly and brushed the dirt off my shorts.

"Oh, will you tell Gianluca and Piero what I told you?" I asked, and he nodded. I turned and headed back toward the door, and he laughed suddenly, making me pause and turn back to him.

"Tamzin, am I ever going to understand you?" he asked, his eyes shining good-naturedly.

I took in his bright smile, and then gave in and shared it with him.

"Nope!" I said, shaking my head at him.

"Well," he said as I opened the door to my hotel room, "I'm going to try."

I shut the door behind me and leaned against it, and then moved to the window and peered out at him. He was smiling, and I watched as he got up and stood to his full height of about six feet. He shook his head and went into his hotel room, and I turned away from the window and looked around my hotel room.

I strode to my suitcase and pulled out my laptop and Valerie's portfolio of Il Volo's portraits she had given me. I grabbed a pen and slid my headphones over my ears, settling down at the table to learn all I could about photographing the boys before their first rehearsal that night.

Driven by the boys' music in my ears, I flipped through Valerie's photos and marked all around them in pen, noting the boys' most notable features and the angles that captured them best. I studied the lighting in the images and made notes about where the shadows fell on their faces and how to manipulate the light into giving them the best appearances. I studied their different facial expressions and their hairstyles, and read through comments on Il Volo videos and forums to find what the common opinions were on the boys' different styles. I grabbed a notebook and jotted down my own observations, filling the pages with helpful doodles and diagrams for myself. I gave myself a crash course on the boys, and when the evening came I removed the headphones from my ears to say the words again, "I am Tamzin Montgomery, Il Volo's photographer!"

When the boys and I went to their rehearsal that night, I was awed by the immensity and grandeur of the empty concert hall. When the boys sang, I was glad that it was not the first time I had heard the music, so that I wouldn't have the same reaction of the night before, though the music still surrounded me and elevated my heart. I got my camera and started taking my pictures, playing with angles from the whole theatre. I ran around in front of the stage and moved backstage. I crept behind the boys and around them, and moved backwards in the aisle and crouched to get some nice shots. I ran up into the balconies to get aerial shots, and I took pictures pretending to be an audience member in different places of the theatre. I engaged myself completely in the job that had to be done, and fervently applied myself to the portraiture. I pushed away longings to be elsewhere, and I made myself work even harder when I began to feel restless and bored.

When the boys finished practicing, I separated myself from them to review the pictures, unwilling to let their eyes fall upon a single mediocre shot. When Michele decided we could return to the hotel room, I rejoined the group burning with feverish determination.

I kept quiet on the way back to the hotel, suppressing wishes to be anything other than Il Volo's photographer, and I reminded myself that I didn't have to completely give up landscape photography when despair rose in my chest.

Back at the hotel, I held out my camera and demanded that the five of them see my pictures. They were tired, but I insisted, and when I sat down they obediently gathered around to see. I turned on the camera and began to show then the photos, flipping through slowly to allow them to absorb everything working in the compositions.

I studied their faces, expecting more than simple approval, and sure enough, I got it.

"These are spectacular!" Barbara exclaimed, gripping my shoulder as she bent over the camera looking intently at the photos.

"Wow! They're…wow, Tamzin, I certainly picked the right photographer didn't I!?" Michele said in awe.

The three boys were staring into the picture on the screen, and I waited for their response.

"Woa," Piero said, and Gianluca nodded.

I watched Ignazio, waiting, and he stood up and looked down and smiled secretively at me.

"I think…" he said, nodding at me, his eyes shining playfully, "You're going to be the best the photographer Il Volo has ever had, and we're not going be disappointed in you."

"That's right," I said firmly, standing up and slinging my camera over my shoulder. "I'm going to bed now. Goodnight, everyone."

I turned away from them and strode away, holding my head high and letting the camera bounce against me as I felt all of them staring after me.