Seerat
The big irony was that the opportunity to see Asher Collins’s private part presented itself hours later after I hung up with my friend.
We were hanging out backstage before the first gig of the tour. To my surprise, Asher didn’t ask for a lot of riders. The dressing rooms were spacious and clean, platters of fruit and bottled water lined over rows of white-clothed tables, but that was the extent of it. No alcohol. No fancy food. No Jacuzzis. No strippers swinging on wrought iron chandeliers. Collins was humble by nature. He only hired people who were considered close childhood friends, which was probably the only positive attribute to his otherwise tyrannical personality.
I was shadowing his every move in the arena and he, in return, played a game called let’s-tell-everyone-Seera
