“Mister Bolton,” Sam said as he held out his hand. “Sam Stephenson, Morning Tribune.”“Hey, I know you!” Mister Bolton said as he shook Sam...��s hand. “You wrote, um… That subway piece! That was a mighty fine article, son.”Sam seemed caught off-guard by the compliment, but he quickly recovered. “I’d like to hear your position on…”And there he was… the cool, comfortable Sam I had a profound infatuation with. Then, Mister Bolton - that name reminded me of Michael Bolton, the singer - started talking. He looks right at me and licks his lips. I'm interested enough to walk in and join him, but the stall door is locked when I pull on it. OK ... Blondie is just doing the exhibition thing, and that's cool. I turn my attention back to Earl. To my surprise, Earl is now standing straight up and facing me when I look over his stall door again (the stall doors are nice and short, which helps). His hair is thick and too black for a man of his age, and it glistens with whatever greasy kid stuff he. More

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