Parking Siesta: Key Beach

They found a spot behind the Daiquiri Deck. It was legally questionable. The white line was faded. A quarter of the rear tire kissed the red zone.

He sighed. “No. I haven’t.” He waved a hand. “Back it off, Mikey.” parking siesta key beach

That’s when he saw the sign. It wasn’t new. He’d just been too blind with rage to see it before. A temporary wooden stake, hammered into the sandy soil, with neon orange spray-painted letters: They found a spot behind the Daiquiri Deck

Until he saw the woman.

“Sir,” Gerald said, his voice a dry whisper. “The red zone is the red zone. Faded or not. That’s $85, or the hook.” hammered into the sandy soil