The Photographer (Ignazio Boschetto Fanfiction)

Chapter 29

Chapter 29

          The time we spent in Los Angeles for the remainder of the summer reminded me of the days I first came to be Il Volo’s photographer, though I was now infinitely happier. The boys were their usual active selves, going biking and swimming and hiking throughout the city, and I accompanied them on many of their trips. We had lots of fun together, romping through the city and over the beaches on our wild adventures, teasing each other and laughing, with the boys horseplaying and singing pop songs for my entertainment.

          As the boys spent most of their days enjoying their time together, I spent most of mine working. I interviewed Michele, Barbara, and the producers for my documentary, and I helped Michele sort out the details of the promotional tour, explaining to him all the events I had secured and telling him my opinions on how I thought our traveling would best be handled.

          We were first going to do interviews around California and drive to the different locations during the day, returning to our condos at night. But when those were finished, we were headed to Chicago, New York City, Detroit, Boston, and a collection of other various major cities.

          We were planning to depart from Los Angeles on August 10th, after we had completed the various California-based talk-shows and news programs.

          Many times during the evenings Ignazio would collect me from Michele’s condo or the recording studio with the producers and take me out with him, to dinner or a movie or some other romantic gesture he had planned out.

          On my birthday in early July, Ignazio arranged for our whole group to have dinner at the same restaurant I had first dined in with the boys, the beautiful restaurant with tall ceilings and red tablecloths, and lovely flickering candles and violin music that made me catch my breath when I walked in.

          “Oh, I remember this!” I exclaimed when I entered the restaurant beside Ignazio, the rest of the group trailing behind us.

“We sat over there, and I mostly just watched you guys talk, except at the end when you said you were extraordinary boys, and I said…”

          “So it may seem!” Ignazio chimed in with me, and we both laughed. “Have we convinced you yet, my dear?” he asked, offering me his arm, and I took it and leaned toward him to kiss his cheek.

          “Absolutely, Ignazio.”

*****

          My summer days with the boys were a whirl of happiness and constant excitement. My laughter was incessant, and the work I now loved was never far from my mind. Calendars, schedules and my own notes about the promotional tour littered my table, the couch, and the walls of my condo.

          Occasionally I would take my camera and go out on an exhilarating landscape excursion, but most of my work and my time were dedicated to Il Volo.

          Ignazio often came over just to be in the same room as me, and he would cook or write music or text his sister in Italy as he watched me work. He didn’t mind my constant excited laugher, and I often found him smiling softly as he watched me from the couch or the kitchen.

          The only thing that ever dared to intrude into my happy thoughts was the idea that my time with the boys was running out.  I hated to think of it, and so I tried to avoid doing so, but I knew my year with Il Volo was coming to a close.

          I was sure that Michele would offer me another contract, but I was still uneasy and fretful. I loved working with Il Volo, but I also loved my landscapes, and the idea, my dream, of being a photographer for National Geographic was still a thrill to me.