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groupies ourselves. Jace was rocking out “Baby, Say My Name,” and just like the night before, DIB devotees knew their idol was not far behind. When Vanni exploded onstage, clad in tight leather, heavy boots and wild hair framing his strong, naked shoulders, Andy screamed the loudest of anyone.
    Vanni strutted to the edge of the stage, where a row of squealing girls clamored for his attention. He knelt to touch each of their hands as he made his way across the stage. It was a lot tamer than the earlier DIB videos I’d watched online, but still he was purposely doing everything in his power to seduce the audience, so many of whom were scantily clad and, by Eddie’s standards anyway, way more socially desirable. He’d walk just to the edge of where their fingertips would reach, waging a finger at them with a smile if they tried to do anything untoward. He wore a wedding ring on his finger; every single girl in the front knew he was a married man, yet they still made their play for him just like they were making their play for Jace at the other edge of the stage. I couldn’t even look that direction, yet the beauty beside me seemed unbelievably nonplussed. I glanced at Andy. “Doesn’t that bother you?” I couldn’t help but ask.
    She shook her head. “ You can’t be the jealous type and love a rocker.”
    “That’s not what I mean,” I said, then thought better of what I was asking. Was I really going to ask this woman how she dealt with being the “fat” girl in her man’s life? Surely she knew every single aggressive groupie, not to mention every single parasitic media outlet, was counting on her to fail. Finally I just shook my head and mumbled, “Never mind.”
    Andy studied me for a minute. “You want to know what it feels like to be invisible,” she filled in. She glanced back out at the stage. “It’s ironic, isn’t it? As a woman, the bigger you are the more insignificant the world seems to consider you. Shannon calls it living in the shadows,” she added with a smile, referring to one of the plus-size producers of Fierce . Shannon had escaped the shadows to vie for love on a reality TV dating show, where many expected her to fail too. “Sure, there are a lot of people who would rather pretend I don’t exist at all. But you can’t hang your esteem on the opinions of those people. They don’t count. Not really. All that counts is that you are really, truly seen by the right people. And that starts, my dear, with you.”
    “I’m trying,” I told her. “It’s not easy.”
    “There will always be critics and detractors. I’m actually grateful for them.”
    I thought about all the hateful things that had been said about me. I couldn’t imagine being grateful for any of that. “How so?”
    “Think about it. Which would you rather have? An honest, hateful critic? Or a sweet, lying backstabber? If someone hates you, for whatever reason – whether justified or not – at least you know where you stand. With a lying backstabber, they still hate you the same, but just drag it out more. I’ve had girls who hate me just as much as the vocal groupie in the front row who thinks I’m too fat or ugly to win ‘her’ man, but they used friendships with me to get closer to their objective. At least with a hater, I can dismiss their comments and get on with my life.”
    “It’s hard to dismiss some of the things they say,” I said.
    She put her arm around my shoulder. “For every person saying something negative about you, there are a thousand people who wish for a tenth of your courage to put yourself out there in the first place. The only way a hater beats you is if he or she stops you. Let them light a fire under your ass so you can show ‘em what you’re made of.”
    I kept her words in mind when I went back onstage for the encore of “Make It Happen.” Instead of singing to the crowd, I was singing to myself. And that night, when all the lights were dimmed and the crowd had dispersed,