Why were phone booths always so damn awkward? Ginger had enough to worry about, keeping her eyes peeled up and down the street for anyone watching her, without having the extra hassle of trying to balance her purse on top of the phone as she rifled through it for change and Lester's phone number. Even if she still had her cellphone, which she didn't, she wouldn't have used it for this call anyway. The cellphone was just an excuse for Sam to call her whenever he felt like it, and no matter how many times he said 'doesn't a man have the right to speak to his wife whenever he wants', she knew he was checking up on her. So she'd trashed it, and told Sam she'd lost it.
This was going to be it, she'd arrange a meeting place, give him the money he needed, and then that was it, no more contact. Sam wasn't going to suspect she'd try to pull the same trick again, she'd be a fool to try that. Last time she'd done it straight after an argument, this time she'd left her husband with a smile on his face.
"Okay, this is it though Lester. You know how much I'm riskin' here, you gotta promise me that I won't hear from you again after this. Three o'clock, the Black Bear Diner."
She hung up the receiver, gathered up her purse and bits and bobs, and headed off down the street in search of a bar, any would do, she needed a bottlebit of Dutch courage to carry this through.