(Continued from Part II yesterday and Part I the day before.)
The parking lot was jammed with pick-ups -- mostly dusty, dinged and dented. Jamie slipped her Chevy rental into a little space, pushed back her seat and closed her eyes.
Three days ago, she'd been doing advanced asanas in Georgetown, today she was about to go two-stepping in a Santa Fe honky tonk with a desperate woman from New York and a couple of mountain men. Or whatever they were.
"Over here!" Maureen called from the bar, waving her arms and laughing. The place was packed and noisy -- Jamie could see Maureen between Jim, the mountain man, and another man against a big mirror and flashing Schlitz sign.
Surrounded by more neon and colored Christmas lights, a band of five was playing a woeful cowboy song -- something about pick-up trucks, lost dogs and ornery women -- while dancers in flouncy skirts or big black hats moved slowly and mournfully around the dance floor.
As Jamie made her way to join her new friends, the musicians changed to a fast song. Jim suddenly stepped forward, grabbed her by the waist and rushed her onto the dance floor.
Grinning, he took her right hand, put his left on her waist and started to count -- one, two, one two three, one, two, one two three -- then to move her around the floor, following the flow counter-clockwise.
After a few stumbles, Jamie began to feel the rhythm and follow his lead, sliding one foot forward for a beat, the other for the next beat and three quick steps to finish the sequence. The fringe on his jacket flew out as they moved quickly to keep up with the others.
"Your friend just couldn't get it," he said, squeezing her hand. "But you, you're a natural."
They stayed for three fast-paced songs. At one point, Jamie could see Maureen watching them intently from the bar.
"My turn!" Maureen called out when they took a break.
"I can't," Jim said, laughing. He took a big swig of beer. "Your friend here plum wore we out."
"Oh, come on!" She wrenched him off the bar stool and pulled him onto the dance floor.
Jamie watched them move around the room with the crowd, both laughing and carrying on, especially when Maureen stepped on his toes or spun in the wrong direction.
"My name's Bill," the other mountain man finally said to Jamie. He had straight gray hair under a broad hat and wore a black cowboy shirt with white designs on the shoulders. "Wanna dance?"
Minutes after they started up, Jim cut in, handing Maureen to Bill and taking Jamie again by the hand and waist.
"You're the only one I want to dance with tonight," he said, smiling down at her. His face was shiny with sweat and his blond hair even curlier than Jamie remembered.
She didn't notice Maureen refuse Bill's hand and then stomp off the dance floor. Maureen ordered a shot of whiskey -- straight up -- and put it down all at once.
Then she ordered another. Bill wandered off to to find someone else to dance with.
"How could you?" Maureen later said to Jamie in the ladies' room. She rummaged in her bag for her favorite bright red lipstick. "I thought you were my friend."
"Well, I mean, we just met," Jamie said, watching Maureen in the mirror. "I don't know what's going on."
"You're stealing my new boyfriend," Maureen said, putting on the lipstick. "That's what's going on."
"Listen, Maureen, you can have him for all I care. He just keeps wanting to dance with me. I can't help it."
Maureen blotted her lips with a tissue.
"We'll see about that."
Part IV coming up. Probably tomorrow.
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