Captive

Chapter 2

Bridget walked through the automatic double doors pulling an aluminum carrier behind her. Her black, patent leather peep-toe stilettos clacked on the foyer tile as she made her way to reception. Heads turned, catching a glimpse of her smart, elbow-length linen jacket and matching knee-length skirt. Not many young women wore nylons anymore—especially in the summer months, but her pale complexion required a bit of bronze. Her alabaster skin, bright eyes behind a set of tortoise shell frames, and blazing copper hair tucked into a French twist instantly alerted all onlookers of her family heritage. She smiled coyly and greeted the receptionist with a sweet hello. Bridget introduced herself and was immediately led down a pastel corridor to a conference room. She thanked her hostess and quickly began to set up for her presentation.

She had only been with Algern Pharmaceuticals for a year, but she loved her job. It afforded her a fulfilling opportunity to travel and meet people, and the pay was more than enough to sustain her lifestyle. It wasn't the career she hoped for when she finished college, but after five years of struggle to pay off student loans, she was quite happy to leave her previous job behind. She was, in what now felt like a previous lifetime, a high school history teacher. Bridget graduated from a well-known Big 10 college with the same hopes of changing the world that all new and naïve teachers feel before they enter a classroom for the first time. Five years of disrespectful teens with equally disrespectful parents, uncaring administrators, and grueling state exam requirements killed her passion. A stroke of luck brought her to Algern Pharmaceuticals where she excelled in product promotion. Her background in public speaking and her ability to sway people made her the ideal candidate for on-the-road sales. In less than a year, she managed to double and triple product placement in her immediate area, making her the top associate in the entire company.

Bridget was great at her job; she knew the exact words and mannerisms to convince an entire room full of people to take a field trip to Hell if she wanted them to go. Always the professional, she adapted her selling strategies to fit her audience. Male doctors and board members saw just enough skin to keep them interested as she stayed focused on what she had to say. Her physique wielded femininity, but her words demanded attention. Bridget presented female clients with an ambition to succeed. The sales representative emulated success, and she made other women feel they could achieve the world with only their smiles. By the end of her forty-five minute presentation, her spectators were hypnotized, and enough Algern products were purchased in bulk to stop a global pandemic.

She traveled Monday through Thursday by company car, spending weeknights in mid-range hotels with swimming pools and dry-cleaning services. She carried her standard issue work cell phone in one hand, and in the other, she cradled her life—a tablet holding every presentation, every meeting detail, and every email she needed. She ventured between seven or eight hospitals and doctor's offices a day before making her way back to her hotel suite. On Fridays, she traveled back to the office to trade the business car for her modest Volvo and hand in her sales reports. Bridget then went to her little one-bedroom apartment on the outskirts of the city to unpack, shower, and change before heading out with friends. She alternated Saturdays between her parents since they refused to be in the same room with one another after their divorce. Sundays were used to prepare for the next week and do laundry if necessary.

Her parents thought her new life as a sales representative was too demanding, but Bridget did not feel the same way. She was still making a difference in the world even though she was no longer teaching. She viewed this opportunity as another kind of improvement for humanity. If she could convince medical professionals to give her company's drugs to patients, then maybe she would be part of the cure for cancer or AIDS or infertility. After all, how can children receive an education if they cease to exist? She loved traveling and visiting strange little towns with eclectic shops and bookstores. Bridget found value in herself and her cause every day, something she never found as a teacher. Yes, she lost her three months of summer vacation, but she did far less work each day, and she rarely brought her work home with her in the evenings and on weekends. The time after 5 p.m. was hers, and she could do what she wanted with it, so she read and went swimming in hotel pools.

This week had been a little strange for Bridget, as her last Thursday appointment rescheduled for the following morning. She made her final presentation to a room of middle-aged oncologists, most of them were men, and left with one of the largest sales she had ever made. After she left the hospital and walked through the parking lot, she checked her phone. It was only 11:30 in the morning. She had plenty of time to get back to the office and get on with her Friday. Bridget remembered that her colleagues wanted to take her out later that evening to celebrate her birthday. She smiled at the thought of going out, but she cringed when she remembered why.

She was thirty; her twenties were gone like a fading blip on the radar. As she drove toward the office, she contemplated all she failed to accomplish over the last decade of her life. Thirty and unmarried, thirty with no children or house. Thirty with no significant other. When anyone asked about a boyfriend or lover, she brushed away the inquisition with a simple, "I'm too busy." The road allowed her to think. This was something she always loved about this career; she had the time to ponder the meaning of existence and decipher the greatest mystery of all—exactly who was Bridget Dunn?

From her thoughts, she managed to create a patchwork tapestry of whom she thought she was. Bridget Dunn, thirty, no children and unmarried. She had a wonderful job she adored and a family that cared about her. She had friends, she was educated, and she was intelligent and well-read. At one time, she could play the flute, chimes, and glockenspiel. She could sing, but she was not a fantastic dancer. She loved dogs and loved to cook and entertain friends. She wanted to own a bakery one day. She was thirty and believed she had a lot of living to do, and yet, the demon from her adolescence still controlled her thoughts and emotions when the sky grew dark.