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

“That must be hard,” Frank commented when they were alone.


“Not getting recognized. Kids these days have no idea about the classics.”


John’s gaze swiveled back to the girl, who was now laughing with a cute blond busboy. That part of the lack hadn’t even registered with him. He’d been too absorbed in the fact that they were probably on Shakersville’s first senior citizen gay date and nobody was the wiser.


“I’m a relic from a forgotten age,” he said lightly and wasn’t even bothered by the veracity of it.


“But it’s not like you’re not on TV now,” Frank countered. “Look at all the commercials you do.”


Chapter 23