Clambake [Forward dated to this evening]
Bobby may have been Long Island born and bred, but he had New England back in his blood for a good long while. Having spent most of his summers in Maine with his Granddad, Bobby knew how to rustle up a good clambake.
The pit was deep and with Johnny's help the stones had reached just the perfect heat. Kurt had helped him lay the seaweed and old sail tarp, so all they'd had to do was wait.
He'd put the word out, so people would show if they wanted. And with Kurt's generous offer of liquor, he was almost certain people would show. Bobby was excited. A party could always help things. And so what they didn't have any music? Real clambakes were all about the singing.