Throughout his career, actor John Paravati has stuck with what he told the gossip rags -- he's been in like, in lust, even in respect once or twice, but never love. All he's ever cared about is performing. If he's stuck now doing commercials for cruise lines, at least it's better than shilling adult diapers.<br><br>But Hollywood pretends, and John is a master. Because once upon a time, he loved two things more than anything -- his best friend Frank and the movie palace he used as sanctuary.<br><br>Over fifty years ago, John ran away from his hometown. Now, someone has restored the theater he left behind, and they want John at its relaunch. The memories still sting, but he agrees to attend, even though it means dealing with heartache. At seventy-seven, he's too old to hold onto the hurt. The question is, however, is he too old to start over once it's gone?

The Hearts of Yesteryear

“Did you believe anything I told you that night you left town?” Frank asked.


“I believed you didn’t want to disappoint your dad.”


“Be more specific.” Because he wasn’t going to repeat the awful words Frank had thrown at him at the end.


“I loved you,” Frank said. “Straight up. I just didn’t know what to do with it.”


The corner of his mouth quirked. “I think you always knew who you were more than anyone else I’ve ever met. You had to. Your aunt and uncle didn’t give you much of a choice.”


Joyce and Abe would never get credit for any aspect of his upbringing except making sure he was clothed, fed, and educated. For better or worse, everything he loved and had earned in his life was due to his friendship with Frank.


If he said that now, however, Frank would have even more power over him than he already did. Though he suspected Frank knew it without being told.


Chapter 22