Asher may have insisted on the plane that he has no plans of being a handful, but the second we touch down on the tarmac, he hits me with a piece of information that suggests the opposite.
He rented a car.
My first clue that this wasn’t a regular rental car was that we didn’t go to one of the rental car counters. Heck, we didn’t even go to the rental car building at all. A guy dressed in a suit and dark sunglasses met us just outside the terminal and brought us the car.
And not just any car, mind you. A bright yellow convertible with a super-charged engine. I guess this is what happens when you’re a celebrity or pro athlete—luxury car dealerships want you to be seen driving their brand. As we stand at the curb while our bags are loaded into the trunk, Asher doesn’t seem to be giving any
