It was supposed to be a date for him with the potential for ‘more” while for her it was more about forgetting in the end they get more than they bargain for.

She had only accepted because, well, her client’s death sentence had turned her sour. She would ordinarily head home and use her well-earned defense attorneys’ salary on a bottle of good wine, but even that mode of comfort had lost its appeal. So, she took him up on his dinner offer.

For his part, he was eager for a little one on one with this aloof, long-legged beauty. Of course, once they sat down to eat, the conversation, or lack thereof, spoke volumes. They were about as in tune with each other as oil and vinegar. Sex was certainly not on the menu.

It was a short drive to drop her off, and he would move on. But life has a way of changing lanes, and one insignificant little missed turn later, a cop was pulling them over. And it was a white cop—a cop with a full head of lousy-day steam to blow off and a make my day frown written all over his face.

Next thing you know the guy’s yanked out his car and the cop is digging around in his car’s trunk. She, being a lawyer and not particularly happy with the cop or the world right now, starts loudly asking about a warrant and threatening to record everything with her phone.

A short, terrible chain of events later, the cop starts screaming and waving his gun around. She ends up shot in the leg. And the cop ends up … dead. Aware of the optics and the ugly racist world they live in, they run.

But run where? Who knows, they sure don’t. They just know they have to get gone before more angry white cops show up.

You can call him Slim. You can her Queen.

And now, Queen and Slim are on the run.