Miguel drove, because he said that he got car-sick when he had to be a passenger. His car, a buggy in fact, ran on ethanol, was open at the sides and had a canvas roof. When it rained it felt like they were camping, cowering from the elements, but when it was a sultry late afternoon like now, with the sun slowly setting behind them and the road in good condition (for this part of São Pedro, anyway), it was a leisurely way to drive. With the wind ruffling his hair, and his sunglasses perched on his nose, Thiago relaxed and tried not to think about where they were going.
"Luiza, huh?" Miguel had other ideas. "You reckon she was really threatening the boss?"
"Did you give my son this?" Thiago pulled the folded paper out of his jeans pocket and thrust it in front of Miguel's face. Miguel batted it away with one hand, concentrating on the empty road ahead.
"Give him what? Paper? Thia, why would I bother, he always has a stack of paper by his side."
"What's written on the paper, Miguel. Did you write it?"
"Thia, if you tell me what's on this piece of paper that makes it so special, then maybe I can tell you, but I'm betting already that the answer's no. The only thing I've written lately is the names of the little doggies on the bet slip, and that just seems to scare the little bas--"
"It's a list of names, Miguel."
"Sounds like maybe something the boss would give you. Is Luiza on there?"
Thiago paused, and reread the letter. "She's mentioned, but only in passing."
"Thia, you're making no sense. I'll look at your paper when we stop, but for now, let's just get to where we're going and do what we're doing, and be done with it all."
Thiago sighed, folded the paper again and slipped it back in his pocket. He wasn't sure he wanted Miguel to see it now, not now that it seemed he hadn't posted it. The letter was a private thing, he was sure of that. He still wasn't sure what to make of it, but it seemed foolish to throw a chance away before he'd even decided if he wanted to take it. The road stretched on, still deserted apart from Miguel's buggy, and the breeze in his face was pleasant.
"So, Luiza," Miguel was not so easily distracted from work. "What do you want to do to her?"
"Nothing," muttered Thiago, and his words were pulled away by the breeze so that Miguel couldn't hear them. "I'd rather not do this at all."