Saturday Morning at the Garage (A Dukes of Hazzard Story!)

Note: I've been working on this off and on for about four years now. Every so often, I'll open it up and re-read it, type a few lines and close it again. This is a very long piece (25k+ words right now, or roughly 47 pages). A very, VERY long "short story", I guess. Here's the beginning though. I apologize for the poor format!
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As usual per their Saturday morning routine, Bo and Luke Duke arrived at Cooter’s garage for their typical Saturday breakfast of beer and doughnuts. It was still early, so the boys were surprised to see a jump-suited figure under the hood of an old junker.
“Hey Cooter -the old jalopy giving Mr. Jenkins trouble again?” Bo leaned against the door.
“Actually, Cooter had to run into Atlanta to pick up a replacement part -and Mr. Jenkins just brought it in to change the spark plugs. “ Cooter Davenport’s youngest cousin Jack emerged from under the hood. “Beer is in the fridge, doughnuts are on top of the toolbox.”
“Oh, thanks.” Luke picked up the box before sitting down on the hood of the General Lee. He took one and handed the box over to Bo.
Jack disappeared under the hood again, “What are you boys up to today?”
Bo shrugged, “Just staying out of trouble, Jack.”
Jack laughed, emerging again and slamming down the hood of the car, “Sounds like a typical day for the Duke boys then.”
“And you? Are you stuck here all day?”
“Naw. Just until noon or so, then B.B. is coming in.” Jack wiped his hands on a grease rag before helping himself to a doughnut. “Cooter only lets me work five hours at a time, ‘cause I’m still in school.”
“Aw, he just wants to make sure you aren’t the one in the garage when us Duke boys come down here for help. Heaven forbid the littlest Davenport get into trouble.”
“Just because I’m still in high school doesn’t mean I don’t enjoy my own fair share of trouble. -How’s the General?”
“Oh, he’s runnin’ fine.”
“Just fine?”
“Aw don’t worry about it, Jack. We’ll have Cooter look at it.”
Jack shrugged, “It’s alright. I know you think I’m incompetent.”
“We do not! ...What’s incompetent?” He whispered the latter at Luke.
Jack smiled, “No skin off my back, fellas. You want me to schedule an appointment with B.B.?
“No. The General is just fine.” Luke sighed, brushing the sugar from his fingers. “Bo, I’m going to run over to the post office to get those stamps for Daisy.”
Bo nodded, polishing off his 3rd doughnut, “Okay, cuz.”
“Keep him out of the trouble.” Luke requested of Jack before hopping off of the hood of the car, and walking out of the garage.
Bo and Jack continued with breakfast in a few moments of silence.
“You gonna be at the Boar’s Nest tonight?” Bo asked.
Jack shrugged, “Maybe. I’ve got some schoolwork to finish.”
“On a Saturday?”
“Time stops for no man. Might as well work on it today then struggle to get it done tomorrow.”
“You’ve got a lot more ambition then I ever did in school.” Bo laughed.
Jack smiled again, “Anything to keep Cooter and my other cousins off my back.”
Bo laughed again, “Yea, I suppose that wouldn’t be a pretty predicament to be in, eh, Jack?”

It was only a little after nine when Jack entered the Boar’s Nest with Cooter.
“Well hey!” Luke greeted them, making room for the pair at the table between him and Bo, “It’s a rare pleasure to see two Davenports out on the town.”
“Hey Bo, Luke.” Jack greeted them as he and Cooter sat down.
“Hey Boys. What ‘er you two up to?” Cooter asked, signaling to Daisy.
“Oh, just havin’ a drink. You?”
“Just spendin’ some time with the littlest Davenport.” Cooter patted Jack on the shoulder.
Jack sighed, hating the reference of ‘littlest Davenport’.
“Well hey Cooter -Jack. What can I get you two?”
“A beer for me, and a coke for Jack. Thanks.” Cooter gave her one of his best smiles.
“Sure thing, Cooter.” Daisy nodded.
Cooter and the Duke boys got down to talking and Jack sipped at the coke that Daisy brought him. No one seemed to notice when a stranger walked up to Jack’s chair, kneeling beside him, whispering in his ear for a moment.
After listening, Jack nodded and watched the stranger walk away.
“Hey, Cooter. I’m going outside for a minute. I’ll be back.”
“Whoa -what’s goin’ on?” Cooter asked.
“Nuthin’. Billy Sharpton’s got a new engine in his Dodge he wanted to show me is all. Don’t worry. I’ll be right back.” Jack patted his shoulder before walking out of the bar.
“Bill Sharpton my ass.” Cooter swore.
“What’s the matter, Cooter?” Bo asked.
“Nothin’... Jack’s been lyin’ up storm’s lately is all. Say’s he’s out doing one thing, but no one knows where he actually is.” Cooter bit down on a piece of popcorn. “And he’s got these damn bandanas shoved in his back pockets. Navy and baby blue. Damned if I know what it means.”
Bo and Luke looked at one another, then at Cooter.
“Well, the boy’s growing up. Time he got himself a little freedom, Cooter.” Bo shrugged. “Besides, Jack knows to stay out of trouble.”
Little did any of them know what the littlest Davenport was actually up to, outside the Boar’s Nest in the stranger’s car.
Before moving to Hazzard to live with cousin Cooter, Jack Davenport had lived in Atlanta with his parents like any normal kid. But while he lived there, he had discovered a still-taboo subculture, and found that he actually quite enjoyed the company of other men. Hence the handkerchiefs, the unexplained disappearances, and the sloping grades no one had quite noticed yet.
So here he was, in the back of some strange car excepting sexual favors from a guy he really only knew as ‘Jacob’. He wasn’t exactly a complete stranger. Jack had gone on rendezvous with Jacob before. He was probably the closest thing to a boyfriend he’d ever had.
“Why are we always doing this in my car?” Jacob groaned in his ear.
“Because my cousin wouldn’t be to keen on finding us in his truck...or his garage...or really anywhere else that he might catch us.”
Jacob sighed, “You could just tell them you’re a fucking queer.”
“Do you really think that would be better?”
They moved apart, readjusting their clothes back into place.
“You never know. Maybe they’ll be okay with it.”
“You obviously haven’t been in Hazzard very long, Jacob.”

“So, how’s that engine?” Cooter asked when Jack returned to the table.
“Ran like a dream.” Jack picked up his soda, grimacing at the taste of melted ice in the coke.
“Hmm...You might be interested in know that Billy Sharpton stopped by while you were outside.”
Jack spit the soda back into the glass.
“Oh?”
Cooter nodded with one of his sarcastic smiles, “Yep.”
“Oh.”
“You want to tell us what’s goin’ on Jack?” Bo asked.
“Nothin. Don’t worry about it.” Jack picked up his baseball cap from the table. “It’s been fun boys, but I think I’ll head home.”
The trio followed Jack with their eyes before putting their heads together to discuss the problem. After three more rounds and a fast bar fight, Cooter bid the Duke boys goodnight in order to retire home and put the plan into action.
Jack was already asleep when Cooter came home. He had a few qualms about invading his cousin’s privacy as he pushed open the door to his bedroom. Jack groaned, but didn’t wake up, and Cooter breathed a sigh of relief.
He knew exactly what he was looking for -the answer to all of his questions. And now was the only prime time to nab it. Jack’s diary went everywhere with him.
There it was, the green spiral notebook laying innocently on Jack’s desk. Cooter moved stealthily across the floor, careful of the creaky floorboards. Then, he snatched the notebook from the desk and snuck sneakily back out of the room. Finally, he had it! The answers to the questions that Jack was avoiding like the plague.

Usually, Sunday was Cooter’s day off, but after church and dropping Jack off at home, he retired back to the garage where he would better be able to read Jack’s journal without the chance of Jack interrupting.
Kicking back in his office, Cotter cracked open the notebook.

November 21
Thanksgiving is a crock. Why would I want to celebrate a holiday with my family (of all people) that originated 100 years ago between pilgrims and a bunch of Indians?
Anyway, after Christmas, I’m moving to Hazzard to live with cousin Cooter. Since Baby Alexandria was born, money’s been tight and Cooter is always looking for help in the garage. I’m not mad about it, honest. I just wish that everything else could go with me. And I’m not talking about my family.
Mom is calling for dinner. Oh joy.
J.D.

Cooter took a moment to think about how Jack had signed his name. J.D. It seemed only normal for him to go by his initials like the other Davenport cousins, but since he had come to Hazzard it was just Jack.
The next month of entries were dull, careful meanderings, talking about school and his friends. So far, the journal hadn’t offered any answers. Then, just before Jack was to move to Hazzard, all of the answers where there.

December 22
I’ve decided what I will miss most while I’m in Hazzard...well, no, maybe not ‘what’, but ‘who’.
Matt Bradshaw. The guy I met after stumbling into Birds Eye View. Well, nearly a year later, I still see him once in awhile. Not too often, least we slip up in public.
Mostly, I meet him at BEV and he’ll rent out a room in the back for an hour. I always offer to chip in, but he just kisses me and shakes his head. I don’t mind. More money for me, I guess.
My family doesn’t know about any of this yet. As far as I know, no one’s really had to like, experience that kind of news -that someone they know is gay.
It’s weird actually, writing that word down and knowing that it’s the only word that can really describe me, the way I feel. The reason I don’t date girls, and the reason I find myself sneaking out of the house to go down to BEV.
It’s also weird that it’s all really going to have to stop once I leave Atlanta because I’m sure there isn’t a gay community in Hazzard. But you never know, do you? Matt taught me a trick with bandanas, putting them in your back pocket. Different colors mean different things. Dark blue is “I want to/want to be fuck(ed)”, light blue is “I want to/want to be suck(ed)”. There are other colors, but I’d never wear any of the others. You need to be careful when you approach guys with bandanas, ‘cause they could just like the look.
So, I have a lot of packing left to do. Cooter is picking me up on New Year’s Day. I hope he doesn’t have a hang over...
J.D.

Cooter carefully closed the journal, leaning back in the chair. Suddenly, it all made sense, and fit together. He wasn’t really sure how he felt about it though. The littlest Hazzard Davenport was gay, of all things to be. Cooter didn’t need to read it again, to double check that he hadn’t misread. He just knew it was true.
When he returned home, late that night, Cooter had to think twice about waking up Jack and admitting what he had done. He knew if he did, Jack would be upset, but was this something that could really be ignored? Was this something that could wait? Or was it already to late?

Jack woke up when Cotter sat down on the edge of the bed.
“What’s the matter?” He asked, blinking sleepily, glancing at the clock.
“Nothin’ -I just thought we could have a talk is all.”
“At two in the morning?”
“Yea...sorry about the time.” Cotter shrugged.
“So, what is this about? What can’t wait until daylight?”
“I don’t know how to say this, Jack...” Cooter set the notebook beside him on the edge of the bed. “I was worried. I am worried about you. I did somethin’ I’m not real proud of.”
“Cooter, I have never seen you look so ashamed of yourself. What did you do?”
“I read your journal, Jack.”
The room was quiet, and Jack’s heart skipped a beat.
“You what?” The news registered in Jack’s head. “Why would you do that?”
“I told you! I was worried about you! You never tell me anything!”
“Did you read all of it?”
“No, but I read enough of it.”
“God, Cooter! That was private!”
“Why didn’t you just tell me what was going on with you, Jack? Why did you have to go around hiding it?”
“Why shouldn’t I hide it? I’m a freak, Cooter!” Jack pushed him off of the bed. “Get out. Just go.”
“No, this isn’t over.” Cooter held his ground. “How long did you think you could keep hiding this? Keep going around doing what ever it is that you’re doing.”
“As long as I needed to!”
“Jack, you don’t have to hide anything! Not from me!”
“Cooter, you don’t understand. I have to hide from everyone.”
“If you wanted to hide, you wouldn’t look for it.” Cooter crossed his arms. “If you wanted to ignore that this is what you are, you’d be fighting it. You’ve accepted yourself for who you are. What other people think doesn’t matter.”
“You’ve been in Hazzard to long.” Jack shook his head. “As much as I’ve enjoyed your little motivational speech, I think you need to go. Right now.”
Cooter nodded, “Yea, fine. I better let you get back to sleep. You’ve got school in the morning.”

The next morning, Jack avoided Cotter before school, getting ready as quickly as possible before setting off for school in his ‘78 chevy. Part of him knew that Cooter had just done what he thought was best, but the other part of him still felt betrayed.
He had the feeling that this -as the school year was beginning to dwindle, that he wouldn’t be able to avoid Cooter for long.

“Hey Cooter.” The Duke boys strolled into the garage in the late morning. “What’s goin’ on.”
“Hey.” Cooter didn’t offer up much conversation, staying under the hood of an ancient ford truck.
“What’s the matter?” Bo asked, leaning on the tire. “Jack?”
“It’s nothin’.” Cooter shook his head. “What can I do for you boys today?”
“Well, we just stopped by for some witty conversation, but we can see know you’re not up for that today.” Luke leaned on the other side of the car.
Cooter shrugged, wiping his hands on a grease rag, and then shoved it back into his pocket before slamming the hood of the truck, “It’s a family thing. Don’t worry about it.”
“Somebody die? You’ve never looked this down before.”
“Naw, nobody died!” Cooter sighed. “Can’t a man just be depressed once in awhile?”
Both of the Duke boys raised they eyebrows at him.
“Aw, shut up, the both of you.” Cooter moved towards his office, the Duke boys at his heels.
“Is this about Jack?” Luke asked. “Did you do it?” He raised an eyebrow.
Cooter sighed, swiveling his chair around, and propping his feet up against the filing cabinet, avoiding the Duke’s looks head-on.
“Well? You gonna tell us what’s goin’ on with the boy, or what?” Bo asked.
“Don’t worry about it, okay?”
“Cooter... What’s going on? Is it something serious?”
“Naw.” Cooter shook his head. “Jack’s just a little miffed with me for reading his journal.”
“So, did you find out what was going on?”
Cooter shrugged. Neither an agreement or a denial.
“And?”
“It’s nothin’. Forget about it.”
“You know you wanna tell us.” Bo tried tempting him, taking a seat on the edge of Cooter’s desk, crossing his feet at his ankles, his long denim encased legs stretching out in front of him.
“I can’t. Jack would kill me. You don’t want in on this, okay?” Cooter shook his head. “Now, do you two need something, or can I get back to work?”