"I'll pay you," said Laura, even though she knew this couldn't be about money because she didn't know anybody who had more than twenty dollars in their wallet. She'd never had a job that paid more than minimum wage. She'd moved from city to city, working at bookstores, toy stores, movie theaters, and coffee shops. Places where she'd had to wear aprons and polyester polo shirts, not pencil skirts and power heels.

The woman who had knocked her unconscious outside of Starbucks, hitting her over the head with one of the metal chairs from the outdoor tables, didn't even look up. She finished tying Laura's wrists together, and exited the room, leaving Laura alone with her thoughts.

The woman reminded Laura of someone, and it took her a long time to realize who it was. On her first day at the movie theater where she'd sold popcorn and swept up ticket stubs for a couple of months, Laura had watched a training video with an actress who looked identical to her abductor.

When Laura sat down to watch the video, the corporate logo had appeared on the screen, and spokeswoman who looked like the crazy woman had said, "Your job isn't to sell tickets or clean auditoriums. Your job is to make the customer feel comfortable. People come to the movies to escape from a variety of things."

After eight minutes, Laura had wanted to escape from the movie theater.

When the blockbuster of the summer came out later that week, Laura was scheduled to work at the concessions counter. She had burned her hand on the imitation butter, and asked everyone if they wanted to pay a quarter more for a larger popcorn.

One customer had said, "That's suggestive selling, isn't it? What do they give you for doing that?"

There was an employee incentive program. If she asked a corporate representative if they wanted to pay a quarter more for a larger popcorn, she got twenty dollars. But she didn't say this to the customer.

She said, "It gives me the satisfaction of knowing that I've saved you money."

"Really."

"No," she said. "They're holding me hostage. Get help."

About a week ago, Elise had commented that a movie theater suited Laura better than a coffee shop, because she lived in a fantasy world. At the time, Laura had thrown a pillow at her roommate, but now she realized that Elise was probably right. Laura knew that she going to die, but she felt like she was watching a movie. The kind of movie that makes you want to yell at the screen, even though the actress will always take a shower, a shortcut or a faulty flashlight into the basement. A horror movie, but still just a movie.

If she survived past the credits, Laura decided that it was time to move again. She would find another part time, minimum wage job, in another town. It was a shame, because she liked living with Elise, and she'd been hoping to get a call from the Brad Pitt look alike that she'd served a mocha to earlier that week.

She liked that fact that he had ordered a mocha, instead of a cup of black coffee like his father had. She'd given him an extra pump of chocolate, and her digits on the back of his receipt.

When light flooded the room, and the Brad Pitt look alike appeared in front of her, Laura thought she was still fantasizing.

"Clear," he said, sounding disappointed. He pressed his fingers to her neck. "I found Laura. I don't think she's hurt, but she's in shock. Call an ambulance."

He turned to face someone outside of Laura's line of sight and said, "Good job, Tim. Tell Abby I owe her a Caff-Pow."

As the sound of sirens reached her ears, and her eyes slid shut, Laura wondered what a Caff-Pow was.