The Spirit Survives Read Free Page A

Radisson Hotel. After a steak and lobster dinner and two bottles of good red wine at the Radisson, they hit the blackjack tables at the Oneida Casino. Bo played for about three hours, winning four-hundred-fifty dollars before he decided to call it a night. At his age, he couldn’t keep up with Cherokee.  
    Cherokee lost a couple of hundred dollars at blackjack and moved to the craps table, where he hit a lucky streak. A few hours later he was up about four thousand dollars. He would have continued to play, but he met Marge. When it was apparent he was winning, she stayed by his side, encouraging him and casually rubbing her ample breasts against his arm. Marge was in her twenties and heavily made-up, and she was built, as they say, like a brick shit-house. She was just the type of woman that Cherokee liked. The five Jack Daniels and waters he had consumed made her look even better.
    At about 2 a.m. she leaned over, brushing her lips against his ear, and whispered, “Why don’t we go to your room?”  
    Cherokee replied in a husky voice, “Hell yes!” He cashed in his chips, put his cash in his pocket, and they moved to his room.
    As soon as the door was closed Cherokee began fondling her. She unbuckled his belt and lowered his pants. He kicked them out of the way and took off his shirt. She was still fully clothed, and he reached out to take care of that problem when he realized that he had to piss. Those Jack and waters needed to be deposited in the john, and then he would get on with the sex.  
    Cherokee took pleasure in slapping girls around while he was making it. Some liked it and some didn’t. Cherokee didn’t give a shit whether they liked it or not. It turned him on, and that was what he planned when he came back from the can.
      Cherokee took plenty of time relieving himself. He splashed on some shaving lotion, took off his shorts and reentered the bedroom. He was ready to finish off the night in style.
    He swaggered back into the bedroom. The room was empty. “Shit!” Cherokee darted around to the other side of the bed and picked up his trousers. He searched his pockets. Empty. The bitch had stolen his four thousand dollars in winnings. He checked his wallet. She had cleaned it out, too. He ran to the door and threw it open. The hall was empty. He seethed. He was a professional. No amateur could do this to him.
    He hurriedly dressed. She couldn’t have gotten far. She wouldn’t be stupid enough to go back to the casino. She would stay out of sight. Eventually, she would have to leave, so his best chance was to stake out the parking lot. There was an outside chance that she was staying in the hotel; however, that would increase her chances of being caught by guys she conned. Odds were that she drove here and would have a car in the parking lot. He raced to the stairs because the elevator would be too slow and scrambled down the stairs two at the time. His room was on the second level, so he was at the exit leading to the parking area in seconds. There were very few cars in the casino parking lot at this hour of the morning. Cherokee located himself on the corner beside the building. He could watch the entire lot from this position. He was very familiar with stake-outs and was patient.
    After forty-five minutes, only two people had come out of the casino. Cherokee waited patiently. At 3:15 a.m. his restraint paid off. Marge and a husky young man exited the hotel side and walked toward the casino parking lot. They looked around several times as they quickly made their way toward a red Toyota van in the back right corner of the lot with no other vehicles around it.  
      Cherokee was always prepared for a fight and he carried brass knuckles to give him the edge. He made his way from car to car staying out of sight. When they were about fifteen feet from the van, he caught up with them. He grinned and said, “Well Marge, what happened to you? I’m so damn sorry you left.”
      The husky young guy, who