Newsweek published in its next issue didn't faze him. Nor did reports from the Bible Belt that Kydds records and paraphernalia were being banned on radio, returned by stores, and thrown onto enormous bonfires organized by fundamentalist church groups. It was a heady time when nothing seemed to matter much, until the telegram arrived from London.
WHY NOT CONSULT US BEFORE GOING PUBLIC? WE SUPPORTED YOU IN THIS, NOW YOU ABANDON US. SUPPOSED TO BE IN STUDIO BUT HALF OUR BAND IS MISSING. MAYBE KYDDS ARE NO LONGER A VIABLE REALITY. MARK AND DENNIS.
Peyton's first reaction was guilt. For the first time in the history of the Kydds, he had failed to acknowledge the democracy of the band, creating a situation that couldn't be finessed or smoothed over. He knew they should have warned Mark and Dennis that they were going public, but it had been such a spur-of-the-moment, gut-reaction thing that he honestly hadn't thought of it. He knew that he and Seth should be back in London by now, back in the studio recording the next album, but they had become so happy in New York that they hadn't wanted to deal with the idea of going home.
The next week, they flew back to London to see whether the mess could be dealt with. But Seth refused to admit any wrong, and soon he wasn't speaking to Mark and Dennis at all. Instead he returned to bed, redoubled his drug use, and swore that he would never again be known as a Kydd.
Peyton was left to meet with Mark, Dennis, and various representatives of the record company. They had never hired a new manager after Harold died, and even if they had, Peyton doubted if any manager could have helped much. He pulled out diplomatic stops he'd never known he had, but nothing seemed to matter. Eventually he came to believe that Mark and Dennisâ resentment was a visceral matter that had little to do with business or even music.
âIt's all very well for you two,â Mark summed up during one bitter argument. âWhen fans think of the Kydds, they think of you. You'll be able to go off and do whatever you like. We'll just be a washed-up rhythm section who are probably a couple of queers."
âWhy would you care so much if people thought that?â Peyton asked, realizing only after he spoke that Seth had posed much the same question to him two years ago. But Mark could not explain, and Dennis didn't care to try either. Probably they didn't even know.
Slowly, amidst countless disputes that pretended to be about money but were really about something much sadder, the band was dissolved. It remained Peyton's only real regret from that time: if the Kydds could not have gone on forever, he wished they might have been allowed to die a decent death instead of an ugly and protracted lynching.
As soon as it was done, he and Seth returned to New York. They both knew they would never live in England again.
* * * *
They stayed in Greenwich Village for a year, until wanderlust seized them again. Their tours of Europe with the Kydds had been much like their first trip to New York: except for Seth's trip to Amsterdam with Harold, they hadn't seen much save the insides of hotels and stadia. Now they would see it all. As well, there was a rumor Seth had heard and wanted to investigate: in Holland, though the ceremony was not legally binding elsewhere, there was a renegade excommunicated priest who would marry two people of the same sex. It turned out to be true, and handily enough, the ex-priest also ran one of Amsterdam's newly legal cannabis coffeeshops.
âThat was the kiss heard round the world,â said Peyton afterward. The ceremony in the coffeeshop was private, with a small enclave of friends that conspicuously did not include Mark and Dennis, but reporters gathered outside to snap pictures as they emerged. The photo most printed, of course, was of Seth and Peyton kissing on the stone steps of the three-hundred-year-old building; the most prevalent headline, âTHEY DO!"
Not content to
WHY NOT CONSULT US BEFORE GOING PUBLIC? WE SUPPORTED YOU IN THIS, NOW YOU ABANDON US. SUPPOSED TO BE IN STUDIO BUT HALF OUR BAND IS MISSING. MAYBE KYDDS ARE NO LONGER A VIABLE REALITY. MARK AND DENNIS.
Peyton's first reaction was guilt. For the first time in the history of the Kydds, he had failed to acknowledge the democracy of the band, creating a situation that couldn't be finessed or smoothed over. He knew they should have warned Mark and Dennis that they were going public, but it had been such a spur-of-the-moment, gut-reaction thing that he honestly hadn't thought of it. He knew that he and Seth should be back in London by now, back in the studio recording the next album, but they had become so happy in New York that they hadn't wanted to deal with the idea of going home.
The next week, they flew back to London to see whether the mess could be dealt with. But Seth refused to admit any wrong, and soon he wasn't speaking to Mark and Dennis at all. Instead he returned to bed, redoubled his drug use, and swore that he would never again be known as a Kydd.
Peyton was left to meet with Mark, Dennis, and various representatives of the record company. They had never hired a new manager after Harold died, and even if they had, Peyton doubted if any manager could have helped much. He pulled out diplomatic stops he'd never known he had, but nothing seemed to matter. Eventually he came to believe that Mark and Dennisâ resentment was a visceral matter that had little to do with business or even music.
âIt's all very well for you two,â Mark summed up during one bitter argument. âWhen fans think of the Kydds, they think of you. You'll be able to go off and do whatever you like. We'll just be a washed-up rhythm section who are probably a couple of queers."
âWhy would you care so much if people thought that?â Peyton asked, realizing only after he spoke that Seth had posed much the same question to him two years ago. But Mark could not explain, and Dennis didn't care to try either. Probably they didn't even know.
Slowly, amidst countless disputes that pretended to be about money but were really about something much sadder, the band was dissolved. It remained Peyton's only real regret from that time: if the Kydds could not have gone on forever, he wished they might have been allowed to die a decent death instead of an ugly and protracted lynching.
As soon as it was done, he and Seth returned to New York. They both knew they would never live in England again.
* * * *
They stayed in Greenwich Village for a year, until wanderlust seized them again. Their tours of Europe with the Kydds had been much like their first trip to New York: except for Seth's trip to Amsterdam with Harold, they hadn't seen much save the insides of hotels and stadia. Now they would see it all. As well, there was a rumor Seth had heard and wanted to investigate: in Holland, though the ceremony was not legally binding elsewhere, there was a renegade excommunicated priest who would marry two people of the same sex. It turned out to be true, and handily enough, the ex-priest also ran one of Amsterdam's newly legal cannabis coffeeshops.
âThat was the kiss heard round the world,â said Peyton afterward. The ceremony in the coffeeshop was private, with a small enclave of friends that conspicuously did not include Mark and Dennis, but reporters gathered outside to snap pictures as they emerged. The photo most printed, of course, was of Seth and Peyton kissing on the stone steps of the three-hundred-year-old building; the most prevalent headline, âTHEY DO!"
Not content to
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