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

Absently, Frank tore the cellophane off the Raisinets, then angled it toward John in offering. As he poured the candy, he said, “Every time I saw you in the news with someone, I turned into the meanest bastard on base. The jealousy always made me sick.”


The disclosure would’ve startled him just a couple hours earlier, in the bright light of the restaurant or under Frank’s searing gaze. Here, in the dim comfort of the balcony, with his favorite scents and sensations in such proximity, he could take it with a lot more aplomb.


The chocolate softened against the heat of his palm. “That’s ridiculous. You don’t have a mean bone in your body.”


“Thank you for saying so, but you never could see me straight.”


Chapter 25