**Jake – Part 1, draft 2**
She rolled the cigarette around her mouth with her tongue, squinting at the world from beneath the brim of her hat.
She’d watched her uncle Jake do this as a kid at a family reunion. An estranged uncle, only spoken about in whispered conversations as though he might overhear. But he never did. He was never there. Not except that one summer stay when she was nine. He was scrawny like a stray. He squinted at her from under his bent cowboy hat.
What’re you lookin’ at kid? he growled.
She was terrified. This man was a legend. They’d met a few times when she was a baby apparently, but she didn't remember. He smiled out of the corner of his mouth revealing a few missing molars. His face bunched with leathery wrinkles. He was her mum's youngest brother, but you couldn't tell his age. He seemed both like a young colt and a wolf with yellowy eyes. Athletic and stealthy, observing all of us talking animatedly trying not to stare. Except her. She just sat staring at him. Wondering if all the stories were true.
She heard thunder in the distance and turned her head to squint in the summer sun. The hot, humid air collided with the cool lake. The air was energized, dangerous. The women moved about nervously like hens in the yard. The men puffed and scratched the dirt as though they might crow the dawn at any moment. Uncle Jake's wolf eyes followed them as he tipped each beer back, draining them like he might die of thirst. He placed the empties in a row in front of his lawn chair that slung low, inches off the ground. His skinny knees pointed in the air like the letter M. After a half-dozen or so beer, he stopped to roll himself a cigarette. Unfurling the package of tobacco and the papers, he balanced it all on his dirty jeans, carefully plucking the stray tobacco and returning it to the package before he expertly rolled and licked the edge of the paper, twisting one end like saltwater taffy. He stuffed the rolled end in his mouth while he put away his tobacco and found his silver lighter. It looked like an antique. It made the whole process look more impressive. The final flourish with lighter and flint brought it to life. He leaned in and lit his creation giving off a flash and puff of white smoke like a magic trick. He leaned back and took a long, satisfied drag on his cigarette, burning through half of it in one pull.
He looked at her staring, still, and smiled, "You want some kid?" as he offered her the cigarette. He laugh/ coughed as she pulled her knees up to protect herself from his inappropriate offer. She didn't move away, she kept her eyes on him as the thunder grew closer.