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[MikeTinisser]

http://bit.ly/thesecondgirl <-Kickstarter Link

18 Backers - 26 Days to go - $276 / $1500 goal, 18.4%

The story got a lot of support on Reddit as it spanned 20 posts (Originally titled "I Got Stood Up") with a lot of requests for publication. If anyone has tips, I'd love to hear them. If you've got some spare jingle-jangle, I'd love that. If all you can offer is a Tweet or Social Media push, that would be awesome as well!

Quick Synopsis: Mike unexpectedly runs into his childhood best friend, Betty, who is only in town for a couple of days. They agree to meet for drinks later that evening, but she never shows up. Mike goes to her hotel to make sure she's okay and he finds her room deserted. The only thing left is a photo on the floor of them as children. On the back it says "Mike" and The Second Girl. Mike soon believes he will be named as a suspect in her disappearance, so he tries to find her, using only the clues she gave him during their brief encounter. The journey takes him through a series of twists and turns, leaving his moral compass spinning as he learns what Betty has been doing since she left town years ago and why she disappeared. Difficult choices force him to confront some of his greatest fears and the sinister truth behind Betty's disappearance runs deeper than anything he could have ever imagined.

Author Bio: Mike Tinisser has been writing since he was in third grade when he self-published crude hand-drawn books about the imaginary adventures his friends would have went on if they didn't live in a small Alabama town. As he grew up, went to college, and entered the workforce, the desire to write never went away. He never really considered publishing anything, despite nudging from friends and family who were allowed to read his work. One night, he decided to post the latest story tumbling around in his head on Reddit, where it became an overnight sensation. The story developed into twenty parts, a 65,000 word first draft of The Second Girl, and hundreds of fans who begged him to publish his story as a novel.

There's a first draft rewrite on Kickstarter, but I'll post it here in case you don't want to make the trip across cyberspace. There's a cover on Kickstarter, but I'm not happy with it and I'm discussing some options with a couple of professional artists who became fans of the series.

THE SECOND GIRL

CHAPTER 1: HAPPENSTANCE

The past never leaves you. It may be forgotten from time to time, but it is never completely gone. As long as a fragment remains your head, it always has an anchor. For most people, the past just stays buried, but sometimes it becomes a surreal experience. For me, the past came calling at a most unusual time. At 12:02 PM on a Friday, I was sitting on a bench in the park outside my work. I was enjoying a ham and cheese sandwich. The day was already pulling at me, like Fridays usually did. It was long and boring; all I could do was think about was being done at 4:30. I wanted to go home and and put some serious hours into my latest purchase, a video game that would consume me until I finally beat it. I almost considered asking my boss if I could skip lunch and leave at 3:30, but he was in a particularly foul mood, complaining about the lack of productivity from the team because it was Friday. I decided to just tough it out.

After about three bites into the mayonnaise coated deliciousness, I felt someone staring at me. A shadow had blocked out part of the sun, and while I was thankful for a brief reprieve from the glaring heat, I was curious why it hadn’t moved. I looked in it’s general direction and I saw an absolutely drop dead gorgeous blonde woman staring at me. I was kind of frozen there for a moment. I even looked over my shoulder to make sure a shirtless Channing Tatum wasn’t walking behind me drawing her stare, but I was the only one in the park. I decided to intently focus on my sandwich in hopes she would go away. I’ve never been equipped for social situations, especially when they involve gorgeous women. She was probably just watching a bird or something.

A few moments later, the shadow shifted. When I looked up again, just throwing a casual glance like I was looking past her, I saw she was walking straight towards me. I wiped the mayonnaise off my face and placed my sandwich on a paper towel in my lap. I wasn’t sure exactly what was happening. I could feel my heart beating in my throat a little. I knew that if I tried to speak, the words would come out jumbled. I stared straight ahead. It was better for me to let her speak if she had anything to say. She probably just wanted directions to the nearest bar, a place she could meet guys her caliber. She continued walking straight towards me. I could hear her heels popping on the pavement, a sound that got louder as she got closer. There was no turning back now. Social interaction was imminent. I cut my eyes without moving my head. A huge grin erupted across her face. She waved at me. “Oh my gosh! Mike? It’s you! Mike!” I was forced to look towards her and I found eyes that were lit up like she had just discovered her lost puppy.

“Uh… Yeah?” My face must have displayed a clearly lack of recognition and if it didn’t, my tone was crackled with confusion.

“It’s me! Betty! Betty Edwards! I lived next door to you when I was a little girl. Do you remember? We used to play...what was the game, in my treehouse?” She tilted her head again and her face glowed with an excitement I had never seen in real life. It looked like someone photoshopped happiness on her.

Suddenly it clicked. “Betty?” I did recognize that name. We used to play together when were kids. The name of the board game escaped me too, but I definitely remembered rolling dice and moving plastic pieces across a board with her. My eyes studied her. Back then she had brown hair and she was just a little girl, but those eyes. Those eyes could belong to no one else.

“I can’t believe it’s you!” She almost shook with excitement. I don’t think her face could have stretched into a bigger smile without surgical assistance.

“Holy shit. I mean, holy crap! What are you doing here? Did you move back to Kirtland?” I had been trying to control my profanity after accidentally saying a few choice words in earshot of a religious coworker. That blunder got me sensitivity training and cost me a whole Saturday.

“No, no way.” She absently looked towards the skyline of the town and then back at me. “Small towns aren’t really my thing. I’m here to handle some family stuff. I’ve been staying at the Rimrock in Farmington, but I wanted to see the town before I left. I’m not sure I’ll make it back this way again.”

“Wow, well not much has changed around here.” I shrugged my shoulders. It really hadn’t. Even the bench I sat on was just restored from the same one I used to jump off of when I was ten years old. “Is this your first time back?”

“It is. I haven’t been back since I was a little girl. My dad came back a few times, but he passed away recently.” Her gleaming smile melted into a sad expression. It was so captivating that I almost felt that pain stab my own heart.

“Oh, Betty. I’m so sorry. He always seemed like a nice man.” That was the best I could do. He really wasn’t that nice to me when I was younger, but I gave her an empathetic half smile.

“Thank you. He was.” She pushed the tip of her finger to the edge of her eye and I could tell she was trying to force a tear to retract into the duct. It was an unsuccessful endeavor, but she wiped it away before it could do any damage to her perfectly painted eyeliner.

“How did you even recognize me?” I tried to shift the conversation away from the sadness, but I was honestly quite curious.

“Really?” She laughed. The question seemed to be amusing. “You still have the same haircut and you’re sitting in the park eating a ham and cheese sandwich.”

In that moment I realized that I must be the most boring person on Earth. I had aged twenty years, but here I was in the same city I grew up in, eating the same sandwich my mother used to make me when I was six years old. I really didn’t think my haircut was the same, I did occasionally put some gel in it now. Not today though, I spent all morning grinding away on my video game and when the clock hit 7:30, I rushed to find a save spot so I could avoid being late. My hair was a small sacrifice.

“That’s a little embarrassing.” I admitted with a slight nod and a sigh.

“I think it is cute.” She smiled and sat down, letting her purse rest on the ground beside her. He pointed at the brown paper sack which was now empty except for a pickle I planned to have as dessert. “Got one in there for me?”

The phrase hit me like a flashback. I could instantly see the two of us sitting in her treehouse. The board game was weathered from being left overnight during a rainstorm. My mom had packed a lunch and Betty used to ask me that same question. Back then, I did have one for her. My mom always packed an extra one. She used to say a ham and cheese sandwich was the best price she ever paid for a babysitter. I used to get so mad when she said that because I was clearly too old for a babysitter at six.

“Not this time.” I sighed. “You can have half of it though.” I picked up the half with bites covering it and handed her the plastic bag which had the perfectly cut second half.

“Oh no, I was kidding.” Her laugh brought back the wide smile from earlier. “I already ate. So why are you still in Kirtland? Weren’t you going to be an astronaut or something?”.

I couldn’t help but let out a genuine laugh. “So, it turns out that I’m not good at any of the things you need to be good at if you want to be an astronaut. I’d like to think I’m pretty good with computers though. I’m doing IT for CenturyCom.” I decided to leave out the fact I still lived with my parents and spent most of my free time playing video games, the reason I failed out of college and never left Kirtland. I also wasn’t that great with computers, but I was better than the dinosaurs in our hometown.

“Oh, well good for you. I’m glad you found something you enjoy, and it wasn’t doing meth in an alley somewhere. I actually think I saw someone doing that over near the hardware store…” She motioned towards the long standing local business across from the park.

“That wouldn’t surprise me. It’s everywhere around here. Kind of sad to see the town go downhill like that.” I looked at my watch nervously. My lunch break would be over soon.

The conversation drifted off from there. I was so worried about being late that I didn’t ask critical information, like what she had been doing with her life, where she went to college, or anything relevant. Instead, I just tried to eat my sandwich before the mad dash to work was required. I ate so fast I had to wipe mayonnaise from my mouth to avoid further embarrassment. It was strange how easy it was talking with her. I had never carried on a conversation like that so easily, but I enjoyed it immensely. If the clock wasn’t my enemy, I could have probably spent an afternoon there catching up. I let the awkward silence take over.

“Well hey, it was good seeing you again, Mike.” The awkward silence must have been realized on both ends of the conversation because she grabbed her purse and prepared for her exit.

“You too, Betty.” I stood up and offered a handshake. A handshake… If there was a God, he was definitely rolling in laughter.

She didn’t notice. She just lunged in and gave me a big hug, which I awkwardly returned. Maybe the big guy in the sky was looking out for me after all. “If you’re ever in Albuquerque, you should look me up. Actually…” She dug her cell phone out of her purse. “Add me on Facebook.”

I don’t know what came over me. I did something so uncharacteristic of me that it gives me heart palpitations when I think about it. I stopped her. “Wait. Are you leaving today?”

“Nope. Sunday.” She dropped her phone back into her purse and looked at me with raised eyebrows. “Why?”

“Would you… Would you like to get dinner tonight? Maybe we could talk more about the old days.” It was a sorry pick up line. What kind of old days did two kids really have? We covered most of it in a five minute conversation.

“No. Sorry, I already have plans.” She shook her head, curved her mouth into a defensive dismissal, and turned to walk away.

“Oh, okay. No problem. It was good to see you.” I sat back down and picked up what remained of my sandwich. I already felt depressed.

“But I’d love to get a drink after that…” She looked back over her shoulder and smiled. “We could talk about the old days over a few beers.”

“Okay!” I nearly leaped off of the bench. I was sure my smile was wider than hers was earlier. I tried to wrack my mind for a location. “How about Rookies?” Most of the good places were in a nearby city. Our small town was lucky to have one restaurant open after seven o’clock and you didn’t go there after dark if you liked leaving without puncture holes or a drug addiction. She also mentioned staying in Farmington, so I knew she would be in the area.

“Ten o’clock?” She walked backwards as she spoke, a sight in high heels.

“Sounds great. Should I pick you up?” I was pretty sure that was how these things went, although my dating experience was limited to a girlfriend in college and we walked everywhere.

“Nah, I’ll meet you there.” She turned away and waved over her shoulder. I could have said something else, but she was out of earshot so I just stuffed the last bite of my sandwich in my mouth and headed back to work. I didn’t even have time for my pickle.

The rest of my workday was a confusing haze. I couldn’t help but replay the encounter over and over. A few times I asked myself if it really happened and I didn’t just imagine the whole thing. I got in trouble for daydreaming, which set me back on course for work a little while, but soon my mind was right back in the park. When 4:29 hit, my workstation was shut down and I was staring at the clock. The millisecond it rolled over to 4:30, I was already headed towards the door. When I got home, I didn’t even turn on my video game console. I just did what any guy in my situation would do. I Facebook stalked her. Her profile wasn’t completely private, which was strange in this day and age. There were photos of her partying with friends along with a couple of obligatory parent photos and candid shots from high school. I didn’t dare friend her. That would suggest I went right home and started looking for her Facebook page, which would be weird.

At around 9:00, I drove towards Farmington. It would only take 20-25 minutes, but I wasn’t going to chance being late. Besides, if she showed up early, then I still have a table waiting. That seemed gentlemanly. Rookies was already pretty packed. I was able to get a table without much wait, and the bonus was that it faced the door. I declined the offer for a drink. They brought me a water anyway. I didn’t know what she wanted, so I decided to wait for her so we could order together. She wasn’t early. I sat on the hard stool they called a seat until around 10:30 and decided she must be running really late and wouldn’t fault me for a beer. I ordered a domestic fall beer, full of pumpkin and spice. I was feeling quite nervous and I hoped it would loosen me up a little bit. I continued to wait. By 11:00, I was pretty sure the whole thing was a bust. I cursed myself for not getting a phone number so I could at least call her.

As I sat there letting the alcohol slowly enter my blood with each sip, I remembered that I had something better than a phone number. I had Facebook! Most people had it linked to their phone and it would be as good as a text message. I dug out my phone and searched for her page. I had previously looked it up on my desktop computer at home, but I was certain I could find her. I watched the wheel spin and I wished there was WiFi available. The name Betty Edwards populated a lot of hits, but none of them were her. I narrowed it down to Albuquerque with only strangers staring back at me. It was really odd, because she popped right up when I searched at home. I began to worry that she had some sort of program which told her I spied on her earlier. She was probably just creeped out.

I finished my beer and got my check. There really wasn’t much else to do. I got stood up. Not only that, but it appeared she had preemptively blocked me on Facebook as well. The only option was to call it a night and head home. There would still be a few hours of video game playing left, and it seemed that I was cursed to spend the rest of my days doing just that. I walked to my car and sat in the driver’s seat for a few minutes double checking my searches. They came back the same. The only choice left was to go home. I cranked my car and headed towards the on-ramp. As I got near, I saw a billboard in the distance. It was an advertisement for the Rimrock, a local hotel. A light bulb flashed. Betty had told me she was staying there. It was a long-shot, but I had to take it. The whole day had been pretty strange, so one last chance wasn’t going to make it any weirder. Not for me at least. A few minutes later, I turned into the parking lot and parked my car. I was running out of courage, but I summoned the last bit to go inside and ask about her.

“Hi. Excuse me.” A teenage girl was behind the counter. She didn’t appear to hear a word I said. After feeling invisible for a moment, I realized she had earbuds in. I motioned for her attention.

“Good evening. Do you need a room?” She didn’t bother to remove them, she just pointed to a sign on the wall with rates.

“No, actually I was just-” She was busy looking a textbook and listening to her jams.

“Sorry, what?” She removed the earbuds and cut me off mid-sentence.

“I was wondering if you could ring a guest’s room for me. Her name is Betty Edwards. She should be staying here.” I leaned over the counter and tried to give her my best I’m not a creeper smile.

“Okay, wow. She’s popular tonight. You’re like her third visitor.” She cracked her neck and reached for the phone. “First her dad shows up, then some deputies. Busiest night of the year. Who are you? Her boyfriend?”

“Just a friend. Here dad showed up?” I remembered Betty distinctively telling me that her father passed away.

“Yep. I hope she’s not in trouble. She seemed nice.” She dialed the number to her room, I saw that she punched 1-4.

I waited and strained my ears to see if there was a voice on the other end of the phone. The expression on the desk clerk’s face, combined with the faint ringing I could hear told the story. Eventually she shook her head and put the receiver down. I sighed. It was a good attempt at least. I could go home knowing that I gave it my best shot. Still, the news about her father and law enforcement worried me a little. I mirrored the desk clerk’s sentiment and hoped Betty wasn’t in some kind of trouble.

“Sorry. No answer.” She opened her text book back up and fiddled with her earbuds, waiting on me to go away so she could put them back in.

I decided to leave. There wasn’t anything else I could do. I walked back towards my car and then I paused. I saw the desk clerk dial 1-4. That probably meant she was in Room 14. I looked at the building and followed the walkway down past the single digit rooms and into the double digit rooms. When I got to Room 14, I noticed that the door was slightly ajar. She mentioned the police, but I didn’t see any vehicles in the parking lot other than those belonging to guests. I gave the door a slight knock and it creaked open. From the entrance, I could see that the room was empty. Closet doors were open and nothing was inside. The bed appeared to have been slept in, so somebody had definitely been there. She didn’t just stand me up, she split. By the look of the room, she left in a hurry. I reached out to close the door and I noticed something on the floor. It was a photograph. I reached down and picked it up.

I instantly recognized my own face staring back at me. It was a photograph of me as a child. Immediately to my right was Betty. We were in her house, her basement to be precise, sitting in front of a washer and a dryer. That brought back a memory of how we used to play down there when we were kids. Rainy days usually forced us inside and her basement was huge, so it provided us plenty of room to run around. I flipped the photograph over and saw some scrawled writing on the back. It read “Mike” and the second girl. It lingered in my hand for a moment and then I saw something else. Next to the writing was a fingerprint...a bloody fingerprint. It was fresh. I threw the picture down in shock. I backed up towards the door and then walked rapidly towards my car says “Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck” over and over.

Why was there a picture of us in her room? Did she really carry that around with her all of this time? I couldn’t recall having any pictures of her. I tried to rationalize what I had just seen. My hands were in autopilot, even as my mind was clouded. I was already halfway to the Interstate when I realized I should have taken the photograph. If something happened to her, I had just left a piece of evidence behind that I touched. Fear erupted in me and my heart nearly silenced the sound of the road as I drove. A few minutes later, I noticed a sheriff’s car behind me. I nearly braked in a panic because I was going a few miles over the speed limit. They rode behind me halfway to Kirtland, then they finally decided to pass me. I finally breathed a sigh of relief when I turned into my parent’s driveway. With the spinning in my head finally coming to a standstill, I began to worry about Betty. I wondered if I should call the police. I pulled out my cell phone and realized my hand had a smear of blood. It must have come from the photograph.

I wiped my hand on my jeans and the smear got even worse. I stepped out of the car and hovered over 9-1-1 on my phone. Before I could dial, something caught my attention. At the end of my street, a sheriff’s car was parked. It was just like the one that got behind me on the interstate. I ran inside and went straight to the bathroom. I scrubbed my hand with soap until it was raw, but there was no trace of blood. I threw my jeans in the wash with a lot of bleach. I tried to rationalize exactly what the hell was going on. For the rest of the night, I kept looking out the window, afraid of what could happen.

Saturday morning came with the sun, but I still didn’t find sleep. I tried to stay in my room, only leaving when my parents forced me to come to a meal. I quickly ate and retreated. It wasn’t unusual behavior for me. I was normally engrossed in whatever game I was playing, oblivious to anything else. I searched the Internet for mentions of what happened. It was an eerie calm on the information superhighway. There was nothing. No stories, no missing people, no manhunts for someone that fit my description. By Saturday night, I collapsed purely out of exhaustion, unable to force myself to stay awake any longer, despite the fear and uncertainty.

I woke up fairly early on Sunday. My body had collapsed so early that I was awakened much earlier than normal. I stayed in bed for a while, just replaying the events in my head again. I once again searched for any clues online without a single one to give me a sense of relief. I half considered telling my parents, but I knew they would insist on calling the police. By the middle of the day, it seemed like all of it was just a bad dream. I knew I had to find a way to forget it. I actually sat down for a decent dinner with my parents, attempting casual conversation. Then, something caught my attention. It was a sheriff’s car driving past my house. I tried to continue eating, but as I ate, it drove by my house over and over. I tried to squint and get a look at the driver, but it never stopped and the shadows of the evening kept them hidden from view. When dinner was over, I excused myself and went upstairs. I had no idea what to do.