The Struggles of Johnny Cannon Read Online Free Page A

baby?”
    â€œJohnny,” Martha said, and her voice sounded like it had when she slapped me earlier, “shut up and drive.”
    We drove along the road and I did my best to ignore all the times my niece or nephew was hitting me in the ribs like I was a piñata. I hated to disappoint them, but I didn’t reckon no candy was going to come out. I’d been trying to cut back.
    We finally made it to our house, the two-story gray home that the Cannon family first built right after the Civil War. There was an American flag waving off the antenna poking out from the backyard where Pa had rebuilt his radio shack. That was where he did his work for Mr. Thomassen.
    â€œAs you can see,” Martha said, “there are no women living in this house.” Sora nodded in agreement.
    I looked at the place again and couldn’t see what they was talking about. I mean, sure, we didn’t have no flowers or nothing, or curtains on our windows, or a porch that looked pretty. And sure, there was tools in the driveway that had been there for a week and the grass had gotten to growing longer than it should have. And, sure, we had some squirrels and rabbits hanging on the front porch ’cause I still had to skin them. But really, what about all that made it unfit for a woman?
    There was several cars parked in our yard, which didn’t cause me no stir ’cause they was just Mr. Thomassen’s white Cadillac and Carlos Martí’s blue Chevy pickup. Carlos had been Mr. Thomassen’s bandleader back in Havana, and he and I had escaped from Castro’s clutches together. That’s another long story. Now Carlos worked for Mr. Thomassen same as Pa, only Carlos did a lot of running around while Pa stayed put.
    I parked next to the Cadillac and hurried to get inside before the girls. I was kind of hoping to prepare Pa for meeting his grandchild. He wasn’t the healthiest fella in the world, mainly ’cause he only had half a lung and a quarter of his intestines thanks to the war. He also told me quite often that he had half a mind, but that was usually in context of him yelling at me, so I didn’t think he was serious about that.
    When I stepped in the door, I forgot what I was aiming to do, ’cause there was somebody there that I wasn’t expecting. Sitting there with Pa, Mr. Thomassen, and Carlos in our living room was a fella that still scared the bejeezus out of me.
    It was Short-Guy, the CIA agent.
    They was all deep in a conversation, but Carlos elbowed Pa when he saw that I’d come in. Pa looked over at me.
    â€œOh, hey, son. How’d the fishing go? Did you catch anything?”
    Right then the screen door behind me slammed open and Martha and Sora came in.
    â€œYeah, I reckon I caught a big one,” I said. “This here’s—”
    â€œSora Sa,” Sora said.
    All four of them men stood to their feet, ’cause that’s what you do in Alabama when a lady has done entered the room. Pa cleared his throat and wiped his hands off on his shirt.
    â€œPete Cannon, Johnny’s pa. It’s nice to meet you, miss,” Pa said. “What brings you—”
    That’s when Sora stepped out from behind me to show off that beach ball of a belly she had.
    â€œWell,” Pa said. “Congratulations on the baby.”
    Sora smiled and bowed her head.
    â€œThank you,” she said, then she glanced at me. “It’s your son’s.”
    All of them fellas’ eyes practically popped out of their sockets and looked at me, though I couldn’t figure out what for. Pa’s face turned as red as a fire engine and he started breathing the way he did when he forgot he couldn’t breathe so good. Then they all started hollering at once.
    â€œWhat in the name of all that is good and holy—?”
    â€œYou aren’t even old enough yet!”
    â€œ ¡No tienes dos dedos de frente! What were you