Chapter 23
I ran through the snow, my breath loud and visible in front of me as I jogged down the white Detroit street in mid-February. My red high-tops dug into the snow and then threw up a white flurry behind me. I held the freezing metal of the camera close to my chest as I panted and rushed into the hotel lobby.
My wet shoes squeaked loudly on the lobby floor as I raced through it into the elevator. The doors closed and I was alone, shivering and hearing my teeth chattering audibly. I pulled my phone out of my pocket and checked it, rereading the text from Michele.
Great news, Tamzin! We're having a meeting in my hotel room about it. Come if you're not too absorbed in Detroit!
I was pretty much finished with my photography excursion anyway when I got the message, and I was eager to see the boys' excitement. I thought I already knew the news.
Wanting immediately to increase Il Volo's popularity, I secretly called in a favor to an old friend from Harrison, Jason, who had quickly grown in power in the music industry after leaving the Academy. I had enlightened him on the world of Il Volo, and he had been doing the best he could to secure the boys a spot in the California Music Festival.
The California Music Festival was an annual outdoor celebration in early March where thousands of people would gather over the course of three days to see their favorite artists perform. They always had extremely famous people performing on multiple outdoor stages, and tickets were always hard to get. I admired it for being a good photography location. A certain nearby hill offered an extensive landscape of all the gorgeous stages and mobs of fans. The place was always lavishly decorated, and I always admired the setup. It was a great opportunity for Il Volo to gain some new fans, and I had hoped eagerly that Jason would be able to accomplish his task.
My jacket was wet and making me colder, so I stripped it off and held it in my hands, shaking and waiting for the elevator doors to open. When they did, I jogged down the hallway, hearing the excited chatter from several feet away, and went into their room, not bothering to drop off my coat and camera in my own room.
"Tamzin!" Michele exclaimed when I burst into the room, "My goodness, child! Calm down!"
"What's the news?" I asked breathlessly, and Barbara smiled from where she sat beside Michele.
"Hi, Tamzin! How did your photos come out?"
I laughed, nodding eagerly as I clasped my camera to my chest.
"Brilliant!" I exclaimed, and she nodded.
"I guessed it!"
Ignazio was sitting in a chair close to the door, and he stood up and came to me, smiling, as Piero and Gianluca resumed their conversation with Michele.
"Oh, just look at these rosy cheeks!" he said, reaching out to playfully pat one. I pulled back, smiling and eyeing his hand, and he laughed and set his hand on my shoulders, feeling me shaking under his grasp. "Oh, you're so cold!" he said, his expression shifting to tenderness, and he quickly pulled off his dry jacket and wrapped it around my shoulders. "Let's go sit by the fire."
"There's a fire?" I asked quickly, and he laughed and nodded.
We crossed the room together to the armchair close to the fireplace, and I set my coat and camera on a lamp table. Then I sat in the chair beside Ignazio, and Michele turned to me and held out his phone for me to take.
"What's this?" I asked, taking it.
On it was a picture of the most beautiful outdoor theatre I'd ever seen.
"Wow," I breathed, admiring the familiar huge stone stage with wide arches over the top, with bunches of red roses and poinsettias surrounding the bottom.
"This is one of the outdoor theatres that artists will be performing in at the California Music Festival."
"Are we going?" I asked, scrolling through the photos of the past year before handing the phone back to Michele.
"Oh, we're doing more than that!" Piero exclaimed, and I looked over at him, and then turned eagerly to Barbara and Michele.
"Il Volo's performing!?"
"Yes!" Barbara confirmed, and I laughed excitedly, beaming with secret pride for Jason, and I threw my arms happily around Ignazio, who smiled and squeezed me back.
"We've been invited to go and perform!" Gianluca said, and Michele nodded at me.
"One of the booking agents called me just this afternoon and asked if the boys could perform! It'll be a great publicity experience, and since the fronts of the stages are roped off, I'm sure we'll end up with some fantastic photos…"
"Oh, yes! Of course!" I exclaimed, jumping up to run and snatch up my camera in my eagerness, but Ignazio grabbed me and pulled me back down, laughing, onto his lap.
"Not so fast, Tamzin, it's not for two more weeks!"
"So here's our plan…" Michele said, and the boys and I quieted. "The last few concerts of the tour are all in California, so we can go and perform at the Festival during the day on Friday, and then we can stay there for a while and even spend the night in the city, and then on Saturday we can still have our scheduled evening concert in Los Angeles. You can handle that, right boys?"
"Of course!" Piero said eagerly, and Ignazio bounced me on his knee.
"I'm sure if we start slacking, Tamzin can control us!" he said, and Michele and Barbara laughed.
"I'm getting my photos whether you cooperate or not!" I warned, and he laughed and kissed my rosy cheek.
"See what I mean?"
"I think it'll be great," Michele said thoughtfully, "You can bring your music to some fresh faces, especially since it'll be televised. I think it'll drum up some free publicity for the new album we'll start recording next month."
I leaned back against Ignazio, smiling secretively and dreaming of the beautiful spring outdoor stages, with roses and poinsettias all around, and my camera around my neck…
Thinking about the Festival brought excitement to both the boys and me as we continued on the U.S. tour. They announced the news at every show, and the fans seemed ecstatic also. We had several more stops before we made it to California, and all around the snow was beginning to melt as spring approached.
I loved going out and getting photos of the changing seasons, capturing the thinning snow and the new blades of grass poking up from the cold ground. In different cities, in different states, I would disappear into the wonderlands around me, and experience what the coming spring looked and felt like for every place. I found the differences, which places were colder and which were heating up fast, and which were resistant to the coming warmth. I collected the photos and stored them on my laptop, showing them eagerly to Ignazio when he asked to see them.
I knew now what a rushed lifestyle touring contained, and I knew what was in store for me. I remembered at the very beginning of my travels with Il Volo, when I had cried because it was so much for me to handle and I was only just beginning to balance landscape photography with work, and I realized that I had become accustomed to how things worked on tour.
While the boys slept late into the mornings, I worked diligently on my laptop, managing and filing photos and beginning my new project, getting them their award. I also started thinking forward to the new CD they would begin work on in the spring.
In the present, though, I thought about the Festival and how many people would see it, both live and on T.V. I thought of the new fans it would bring, and I was determined to get amazing photos to share with the newcomers. I was excited, and I looked up the different stages online to plan where the good photo spots were, taking screenshots and highlighting the places. Nothing could hold me back from getting those shots.
We arrived in California about a week before the festival, for tour concerts throughout the state. We were already in the city where the festival was going to be several days before the actual event, but we had received no more contact from the producers since the booking agent had called Michele. Finally, when they heard that the boys were in the city, Michele was contacted and asked to go in for a meeting about the boys' performance, and he said he would be bringing them along to the meeting. The producer seemed hesitant about this, but eventually agreed, and then Michele demanded Barbara and I be allowed in also, since we were part of the executive team of Il Volo.
We drove that afternoon to their huge office building, which loomed in front of us and blocked out the sun. For once, I didn't bring my camera, as Michele said it would make me seem more "executive" for the mysterious meeting. Still, I longed to have the camera just in case we headed over to the outdoor stages, which Barbara assured me we weren't going to do, at least not that day.
She told me at the table during our team's breakfast in the hotel lobby that the producers were being very secretive, and it was very strange.
"It makes me nervous," she said, "I don't know what is so important they had to call us in for a top-secret meeting. Can't we just show up at the stages and have a normal rehearsal?"
I agreed and secretly texted Jason about it, and he responded that he did what he could and the rest was up to the executives. I thanked him for his work, but lingered anxiously on his response. As we entered the chilly office building I remembered Barbara's uneasiness and looked suspiciously around the empty gray lobby. It was unnecessarily cold inside, but I immediately refused Ignazio's sweatshirt when he offered it to me, preferring instead to stand tall and survey my surroundings curiously.
A woman came up to us after a moment and asked us who we were, which immediately grasped my attention. Why would she ask us who we were if we were going to be performing at their event later in the week? I eyed her suspiciously as Michele told her, and then she smiled and led us down a long hallway.
We passed a desk in the hallway containing a stack of brochures, and when I saw it was a list of performing artists I snatched up a copy and unfolded it.
I walked beside Ignazio, who playfully offered me his arm, but I refused it, reading over the list.
He leaned close to me and whispered, "What's the matter, Tamzin? You have a strange look on your face."
"Something's up," I whispered back.
"Like what? I assumed we're just coming to discuss when and where we'll be doing the show."
"I don't think so, Ignazio," I whispered back, crumpling the brochure in my fist.
We entered a small office where a man sat smiling at us.
"There's quite a lot of you, isn't there?" he observed as we filed in and sat in the seats in front of him. He had a bench on the side of the room where Ignazio, Piero, and I had to sit, and when Ignazio tried to get me to sit on his lap to create more space, I quietly refused, pushing his hand away and eyeing the small bald man behind the desk.
The woman who had led us in closed the door, and for a moment the room was quiet. Then the man cleared his throat and stood, reaching across the desk to shake Michele and Barbara's hands. He introduced himself to us, and then spoke about how he was glad we could come and how he was sorry for the inconvenience of the meeting.
As he spoke, Ignazio touched my hand questioningly, where I clasped the crumpled brochure, and I looked up and shook my head, moving my hand away.
"Listen guys, here's the situation," the man said, adjusting his glasses and leaning forward to speak with us. "This year was difficult for us…booking-wise. For a lot longer than we expected, we had many open spaces to fill. See, usually we look to the super-famous performers, ones we know will be sure to draw great crowds; you understand, right?"
"Sure," Michele said, nodding agreeably, but I still eyed the man suspiciously.
"Normally we fill the program like that-" he snapped his fingers and smiled at us. "We knew we had to fill all the spaces, and we wanted every stage to have a performance going on throughout the whole three days. This year, when we still had many open spots dangerously close to the event, we got our booking team ready to hire acts that were a little different from our usual artists-of course, acts we knew that everyone would still enjoy. One of our workers suggested Il Volo, and we were so pleased when your boys were free to come and perform, especially when we found it wasn't too much of an inconvenience because you're touring in the area anyway!"
He paused and smiled at us.
"No, it's still an inconvenience," I said, and everyone turned to me in surprise. Barbara shot me a motherly look.
"Tamzin, hush," she said softly, but I didn't break eye contact with the man behind the desk, who smiled uncomfortably at me.
"Anyway…" he continued nervously, and everyone turned back to him, "We were able to fill all the spots with good acts, but we still felt the show could be…well…better. That's why we were ecstatic when certain performers contacted us and said they became available for a performance. Now, we're talking singers we know will attract a lot of people! Artists who would really…pump up the energy level, you know? See, you can understand why we'd be excited, and we told them that we'd absolutely make sure they got to perform! But this creates a situation for us, for you, also, that is…a little unfortunate… The fact that we are having this meeting is a tad awkward, actually…"
"You're cutting Il Volo out of the Festival," I said coldly, and everyone turned to me again. This time Barbara didn't shush me, and they all stared at me for a moment, even the man behind the desk.
I kept my eye contact with him as I reached out and slapped the crumpled brochure down on the edge of his desk.
"Maybe you should have contacted us before the final decisions were made and you printed the brochure, you know- the one where you left Il Volo's name off the list of performers…or this wouldn't be quite so- how did you phrase it? "A tad awkward…" "
I leaned back slowly, leaving the crumpled brochure on the desk, and no one chastised me as they turned back to the man.
"This can't be true," Michele said, and the producer stared nervously at him. "No, see, you called us and asked us to perform, and we said yes. Now you must let us perform."
"I'm sorry. Another artist has taken your place. I'm sorry for the inconvenience."
"Well, reschedule it!" Michele said sharply, "You can't do this!"
"We've been looking forward to this for weeks!" Gianluca insisted, and Piero nodded, getting to his feet.
"You can't just cancel this on us!" Piero said indignantly, and Michele snapped his fingers at Piero, who grudgingly sat back down.
"There must be something you can do," Michele said, "Let's try to work something out. Do you think the crowd would prefer shorter performances, with more artists? Or is there a group you feel their arrival is…questionable?"
"No. You must leave now. This meeting is over."
"I can't believe this," Ignazio said, and for the first time since our arrival at the building I took my focus off the situation around me and turned to him. I reached up and placed a hand on his shoulder.
"It'll be alright," I encouraged him, "Michele will compromise. He'll get you to perform. They can't tell us you're going to perform and then tell you that you're not. Besides, all your fans expect you to be there. They have to let you perform! They have to!"
He nodded, still looking anxious, and I ran my hand soothingly down his back and up again.
"I hope you're right, Tamzin," Piero said from the other side of Ignazio, looking angrily at the man behind the desk.
Gianluca got out of his chair and moved around Barbara, distancing himself from the discussion as he came to kneel beside us on the floor.
"Michele will fix it," I said, reaching down to put my hand on his shoulder too, and he looked up at me and smiled unconvincingly.
The four of us looked up suddenly as the office fell silent, with Michele sitting close to the desk, he and the producer stuck in an intense stare.
"I'm sorry. There's nothing I can do," the man said, and Barbara shook her head and rolled her eyes.
We waited quietly for Michele to say something.
At last, he sighed and stood, pushing back his chair, and we all followed his movement with our eyes.
"Let's go, boys," he said sharply, and I jumped up.
"What!? Michele!?"
"Tamzin, it's time for us to go," he snapped, and I shook my head.
"No, they can't do this! You can't let them off so quickly! We're not leaving until we have a spot in the venue!"
"Tamzin!" he said again, and Ignazio reached up and grasped my elbow. I yanked my arm away and strode up to the desk.
"Tamzin!" Barbara warned, but I slammed down my palms on the desk, glaring fiercely into the man's face.
"Who did you replace them with!?"
"It doesn't-"
"Oh, don't give me that! You had a spot picked out for Il Volo, and you replaced them. Who did you replace them with!?"
"Well, if you really want to know, KeSha."
"Tamzin, that's enough!"
"KESHA!? ARE YOU KIDDING ME!? YOU PICKED KESHA OVER IL VOLO!?"
I was raising my voice now, and the room was dead silent except for my reprimands and the producer's shaky responses.
"I'm sorry if you feel-"
"Like you cheated us!? Yeah, I do! Il Volo is not a temporary spot-filler! You can't do this! You are going to let them perform!"
The boys stared at me, stunned, and Michele stepped forward and grabbed my arm, pulling me back, but I wriggled and broke from his grasp.
"No, I'm not letting this happen! The fans are expecting to see Il Volo!"
"Sorry," he said, and I slammed my fist indignantly on the desk again, making him jump and lean back as I leaned forward. "Do I have to call someone?" he threatened Michele around the desk.
"Yes. Jason," I hissed where only he could hear, and he leaned forward and lowered his voice.
"He may be able to suggest acts, but he has no power to secure the final lineup. I'm sorry"
"Ignazio!" Michele commanded.
"Sorry isn't good enough!" I said slowly, demanding his full attention, and immediately felt Ignazio's hands around my waist. "You better find a way to-"
I was hoisted suddenly into the air, and I yelped in surprise and then kicked and squirmed, glaring down at the desk.
"IGNAZIO, PUT ME DOWN!" I screeched, kicking him in the shins.
"Tamzin, cut it out!" he cried, tightening his grip as he pulled me backwards, and I struggled to get away from him.
"Quite a feisty intern you've got there," the producer said cockily when he saw Ignazio had a good hold of me, leaning back and raising his eyebrows at Michele.
"I'M THE PHOTOGRAPHER!" I yelled, momentarily jumping away from Ignazio and snatching up the brochure to throw back in his face.
Immediately I was caught back up in Ignazio's grip, and he pulled me backwards into the hallway.
"Piero!" he called, and Piero bounded out after us and clamped a hand over my mouth as I opened it to scream at Ignazio.
Ignazio set me down on the ground, and I lunged back at the office, only to be seized by Piero and Ignazio again.
"Tamzin, listen!" Piero tried to reason, and Ignazio shook his head.
"Reasoning with a raging Tamzin Montgomery doesn't work," he said, right before he spun me around and picked me up again, throwing me over him shoulder.
"Ignazio!" I yelled in fury, slamming my fists hard into his back, and he set off quickly down the hallway, carrying me away from the office as I kicked and struggled and yelled down the hallway, "You lying, cheating little-!"
"Tamzin, relax!" Ignazio yelled over me, carrying me through the lobby and past the startled receptionist. He carried me outside and around the side of the building, setting me down hard on the cement. I glared up at him, eyes blazing fiercely, and he looked concernedly back at me. Anger bubbled in my chest, and my hand shot toward his face, but he immediately grabbed my wrist in his hand, expertly spinning me around and pulling me against him, trapping me.
I squirmed, but he held me too tightly for me to get away.
"Ignazio!" I cried.
"Tamzin, calm down! You need to relax!"
"They can't do that!"
"You're right! It's wrong of them, I know!"
"Michele gave up too easily!"
"He did what he could!"
"Let go of me, Ignazio!"
"Will you run away?"
"I'm going to go back in there and get you a performance!"
"Then no!"
I struggled again, and he held me tightly as I thrashed around and tried to pull away.
"Ignazio!"
He didn't respond, and finally realizing I couldn't get away, I sighed a long, angry sigh and then went limp like a child, becoming deadweight in his arms. He leaned over and gently sat me down on the cement. I crossed my arms, glaring fiercely down at my red high-tops.
He released me and stepped around me, crouching down in front of me. He reached out a hand and placed it gently on my head.
"Tamzin."
I looked up at him indignantly, and then froze, gazing into his sweet brown concerned eyes. I gulped, and then felt my eyes grow wet.
"I wanted to fix it," I said, and he nodded, letting his hand drop to his side. "I wanted to get you that performance!"
"I understand. It's okay, Tamzin."
"I wanted you to have your show, and get your new fans, and I wanted to get my pictures. I wasn't going to let anything stand in my way, but-Ugh, I feel so helpless!" I exclaimed.
I tensed up, my hands balling into fists, and he quickly reached out and took my fists in his hands.
I looked up into his eyes again, then released my fists and sighed.
"Maybe I could have made him give you a show, if you hadn't stopped me."
"Maybe you could have, Tamzin," he said, and I looked up at him in surprise at his agreement. "But that's not how we want to do things. If they don't want us, then we're not going to perform. That's why Michele told us to leave. He didn't want us to have to fight for our spot."
A tear rolled down my cheek, and Ignazio reached out and gently rubbed it away with his thumb.
"It's not fair," I whispered tearfully, and he nodded, looking somber.
"You're right. It's not fair."
He sat beside me on the cement, looking down at me and watching as more tears rolled down my cheeks. I looked up at him, and then suddenly felt very pathetic and buried my face in his sleeve.
He put his arm around me, and when I looked up at him he wiped away my tears and leaned forward to kiss my cheeks where the tears had been.
I sniffed, trying to stop crying and being so helpless, and I pulled up my knees, crossed my arms over them, and leaned forward to rest my chin on them. Ignazio placed his hand gently on my back and rubbed it softly, up and down, as I stared somberly into the distance.
"This time we can't fix it," he said gently, "Maybe next time, but this time, just let it be. Let them have their way this time."
I nodded slowly.
"Okay?"
"Yeah," I said, softly, and his hand stopped and stayed in one place on my back.
"Tamzin? I have to ask, though, did you…do anything to help us get this opportunity?" I looked up at him in surprise, and he nodded. "I thought you might have. You weren't as surprised as I thought you would be when Michele told you. And you were fighting so hard just now…Not that you wouldn't fight just as hard otherwise, but I just wondered about it."
"I…thought it would be a good promotion."
"It would have been. Thank you, Tamzin." He leaned toward me and kissed my cheek.
"Can we keep it a secret?" I asked. "The others seem so happy just to be asked, and I don't want them to think I had a part in it."
"Sure, Tamzin."
"It's just a shame it didn't actually happen, though," I said sadly, resting my chin on my knees again.
"Tamzin."
I peered up at him, and he smiled gently.
"Although a tear may be ever so near…That's the time you must keep on trying…Smile…"
I rolled my eyes at the song, but then his expectant smile made me smile too.
"Aha!" he said, reaching out to cup my face in his hand. "There we go!"
He leaned forward and gently kissed my lips, and then the top of my head.
"Are you ready to go back to the others?"
"No way!"
"Will you do it anyway?"
I sighed, and then nodded.
"My little tigress," he murmured, and I clambered to my feet when he did.
He stepped close to me and offered me his arm for support, but I shook my head and wiped my eyes with my hands.
"No. I'll walk out on my own."
He smiled and nodded, dropping his arm, but leaned forward and kissed my cheek.
Then I took a breath, and we walked around the building together, finding the others standing around the car.
They all looked up and smiled at Ignazio and me, and I averted my eyes but kept my head up.
We walked right up to the car, and Michele came around to stand beside me.
"I did what I could? Understand?" his voice was gentle, but firm, and I nodded.
"I'm sorry."
He nodded, and then that was all. We got into the car and I sat next to the window, leaning against it and staring at the passing cars. I pulled out my phone and texted Jason,
We didn't get a spot. Thanks anyway.
Then I leaned my head against the window again, and after a minute Ignazio rested his hand comfortingly on my back. I didn't shrug him off, closing my eyes instead to feel his touch.