She straightened her spine and met my eyes, looking so irresistibly, gorgeously shamefaced. “I’ll kiss the Jesus or scrub the floors or whatever you decide. No resistance. I’m a total shithead.” One of the things I’d come to adore about Tinsley Constantine was the ease in which she could be so genuinely humble and wryly deflating of herself. Rarely did she care about other people’s perceptions of her, but for whatever reason, she didn’t want me to believe she was superficial or weak-minded.
