Weekend by Kim Savage

Weekend by Kim SavageWith Mark and Helena's marriage on the ropes, Mrs. Lassiter plans the ultimate weekend to spice things up. To complicate matters, the guests include Mark's new secretary/fling, Helena's photographer "friend" Ken, Mark's buddy Ben and his showgirl gal-pal Trixie, Helga the naive niece from Minnesota and Mae, the bitter drunk lesbian author. Sounds exciting, right? Well, unfortunately this is not a terribly interesting story. While it has its share of sleaze, the story lacks the pulp/crime intrigue that I usually enjoy in these books.

There is the typical share of character pairings and debauchery, but the only minor moment of tension comes during a brief barroom brawl when one of the girls get accosted by a couple of drunks. The only worthwhile moment for me was in the description of a "wash martini." So, for this book's excerpt I have included that page here:

His infectious grin calmed her. “All right, I suppose there’s some truth in what you say. So what do you want me to do, go downstairs and give a strip tease?”

His eyes swept her from head to toe. “Mightn’t be a bad idea, Mae. But no, nothing that radical—I just thought you might like to know that Mark is concocting Martinis. Wash Martinis, to be more specific.”

“Wash Martinis? What in blazes—?”

He nodded gravely. “Wash Martinis is what I said. A rather fiendish mixture brewed by our genial host. Fill the cocktail glass with dry Vermouth, pour it back into the bottle and refill with good yellow gin. Add a twist of lemon peel—then duck before it hits you . . .”

She could not help smiling. “That I’ve got to see. Deal me in, will you?”

“Come on downstairs. The clans are gathered in the living room watching the performance.”

 She hesitated. “Look, Benton. Be a good sport and bring one up to me. I don’t feel much like facing the rest of the crew. You know, nerves and all that sort of thing. I’ve been a little on edge for most of the day and if I went down I’d probably do or say the wrong thing. How about it?”

 “Sure, Mae, I understand. Guess that’s what they call author’s license. Sorry you won’t come.”

 “Thanks . . .”

 “Tell you what, though. I’ll have a pitcher sent up, and then you can get stinking from drinking. Maybe. that’ll snap you out of it.” 

“It always does.”