“Don’t make me regret this,” Gerald said.
Leo put his head on the steering wheel. “I’m going to drive into the Gulf.” parking siesta key beach
“Twenty-three years,” Gerald said, a flicker of pride in his eyes. “Don’t make me regret this,” Gerald said
The Village was Siesta Key’s tiny, quaint downtown—a strip of ice cream parlors, t-shirt shops, and overpriced bistros. The parking there was a different circle of hell: metered, two-hour limits, and patrolled by a golf-cart-riding parking enforcement officer named Gerald, who had the cold, reptilian soul of a Venetian doge. The Village was Siesta Key’s tiny, quaint downtown—a
His wife, Elena, was trying to meditate in the passenger seat. Their daughter, Maya, age nine, was pressing her forehead against the foggy back window.
Elena opened her eyes. “We are not leaving. This is a matter of honor now.”