Pay Phone, originally released by Arctic Wolf Publishing in
the spring of 2010, is back in a newly revised edition, which contains a brand
new introduction chronicling the evolution of the novel!
Revisit the terrifying story of Jake Taft, a ruthless serial
killer who uses a pay phone across the street from his third-story apartment to
lure unsuspecting victims into his web, and of Chelsea Summerfield, a
struggling actress trying to make it in the big city. By pure happenstance,
their paths meet and thus begins a brutal and sadistic thrill ride that will
surely leave trembling more and more with every page!
Pay Phone is currently available in both paperback and
Kindle editions, but for those of you who just can’t wait, scroll down for an
exclusive sneak peak at the novel’s introduction and find out what real-life
experiences inspired the story!
***
RING RING:
An Introduction
By
Brandon Ford
Fall, 1995. I was fourteen, a freshman in high
school. I remember the burning sun and an unseasonable warmth as I stepped out
of the subway station to begin a short walk across the park. As I passed a
crowded bus stop, I heard a loud, distinctive sound cutting through the air.
A ringing phone.
A pay phone stood mere feet from the horde of
teenagers awaiting their mode of transportation. I watched them, watched the
phone, certain someone would grasp the receiver before I had the chance. To my
surprise, the crowd of more than a dozen youths stood oblivious, or more than
likely apathetic. Curiosities piqued, I quickened my pace, so sure the ringing
would stop before I’d made it. By then, more than ten rings echoed in the warm,
late afternoon air. My overstocked backpack weighing me down, I reached with a
tentative hand and grasped the receiver. Lifted it. Placed it to my ear.
“Uh…hello?” I called in a quavering, puberty-laced
Peter Brady voice.
Though the woman on the other end of the line spoke
in a low, sultry voice, did all she could to come across sensual and seductive,
I could tell she was long past her prime. She sounded in her mid-to-late
fifties, some trace of a nicotine addiction behind her unusual timbre. I don’t
recall how she opened the conversation or which name she asked for, but I know
that name belonged to a man. I had my doubts this man existed, even after she
displayed a strong sense of surprise when I told her the number she’d dialed
was not to a personal residence, but a pay phone just off Broad and Oregon.
I figured our
conversation would end there, but it seemed she had other things on her mind
and keeping me on the line was obviously part of that agenda. She asked where
I’d come from. How my day had gone. If I was alone, or had any friends with me.
And finally, how old I was. I gave brief, but polite responses, feeling more
than ill at ease. The more she spoke, the more seductive her tone, and that
sense of discomfort grew.
I told her I had to go, that I was expected home, but
she wouldn’t relent. “I was hoping for a little company today,” she said,
breathy and eager. “What would you say if I asked you to come over to my
house?”
“Uh…” I stammered, choking on my own words. “I…”
“We could have some fun together,” she went on. “If
you’re interested.”
The more she tried to persuade me, the more I wanted
to flee. But something held me in place. Something kept me talking. I looked at
the small crowd waiting for the bus. Wondered if they knew what was happening.
I felt more and more embarrassed just standing there holding the receiver.
“I don’t think… I mean, I…”
And then she said it. The four words that caused me
to involuntarily pull my lips back in a tight grimace. The four words that left
my eyebrows knitted and nose scrunched.
“Do
you like titties?”
***
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