Notes From The Cubicle Next Door

Chapter 3

Something felt off the moment I walked into the Daily Planet that morning.

The usual bustle of keyboards and phone calls was there, but underneath it ran a current of... something else.

Susan from Accounting pressed her lips together when I passed her desk, shoulders shaking with suppressed laughter.

Two interns by the water cooler stopped talking and stared, then burst into giggles once I was past.

I checked my reflection in my phone. No toilet paper stuck to my shoe. No breakfast in my teeth. My tie wasn't inside out.

"Maybe I'm paranoid," I muttered, sliding into my chair.

Jimmy walked by, did a double-take, and grinned. "Hey there, lover boy."

"What?"

He just waggled his eyebrows and kept walking.

I booted up my computer, trying to ignore the whispers and sideways glances. The newsroom felt like middle school all over again. Any second someone would stick a "kick me" sign on my back.

"Good morning, Romeo!"

Raj's voice boomed across the office. Several people snickered.

I spun in my chair. "What did you call me?"

"Oh, come on." He perched on my desk, grinning like a cat who'd found the cream. "The company directory update? The one HR sent this morning?"

"I haven't checked my email yet."

"Well, Romeo Kingston, you might want to."

My stomach dropped. "How did you—"

"Your full legal name is now displayed for all to see." He spread his hands dramatically. "Wherefore art thou so secretive about it?"

"Don't."

"What light through yonder cubicle breaks?"

"I will end you."

Clark appeared behind Raj, coffee in hand. "Leave him alone."

"Thank you," I said.

"At least until he's had his morning coffee." Clark smiled. "Then he's fair game."

"Et tu, Clark?"

"Sorry." He didn't look sorry at all. "But you have to admit, it's pretty good."

I opened my email, dreading what I'd find. Sure enough, there it was. The company-wide message about updated employee directories. With a helpful attachment listing all current staff.

"This is why I go by Kingston," I groaned.

"Because you're ashamed of being named after the world's most famous lover?" Raj asked.

"Because I knew people would react exactly like this."

"Your parents must have been real romantics," Clark said.

I rubbed my temples. "Mom's an English professor. Dad's a theater director. I never had a chance."

"Could be worse," Raj offered. "They could have named you Hamlet."

"Or Macbeth," Clark added.

"Don't say that name in a theater," I said automatically.

"The Scottish Play," Raj corrected with exaggerated gravity.

"I hate you both."

June chose that moment to walk by. Our eyes met. Her lips twitched.

"Don't," I warned.

"I didn't say anything." But her eyes danced with suppressed mirth.

"You were thinking it."

"Your name is lovely," she said diplomatically.

"Thank you."

"Very... passionate."

I dropped my head onto my desk with a thud.

"Careful," Raj said. "Soft, what light through yonder window breaks? It is the east, and Kingston's forehead is the sun."

"That doesn't even make sense," I mumbled into the wood.

"Neither does hiding your name for three years," June said.

I lifted my head. "Two years and eight months, actually."

"How did you manage that?" Clark asked.

"Carefully. Very carefully."

"He probably bribed HR," Raj stage-whispered.

"I did not bribe HR. I just... requested they use my last name on everything."

"And now the truth comes out." Raj wiped away an imaginary tear. "Like a rose by any other name."

"That's it." I stood up. "I'm working from home today."

"No, you're not," June said. "You have that interview with the harbor master at eleven."

"I can do it over the phone."

"In person," she insisted. "We need photos."

I slumped back into my chair. "Fine. But I'm putting headphones on and ignoring everyone until then."

"A plague on both your houses!" Raj called as he finally left my desk.

Clark patted my shoulder. "It'll blow over."

"When?"

"Eventually." He paused. "Romeo."

I threw a pen at him. He caught it without looking and walked away laughing.

I pulled up my article draft, trying to focus. But I could feel the eyes on me, hear the whispers and stifled laughs.

My phone buzzed. A text from Bethany in HR:
"So sorry about the directory thing! Want me to try changing it back?"

I typed back: "Too late. The damage is done. Also, I thought you were my friend?"

Her reply came quickly: "I am! That's why I waited three hours to tell you about the Shakespeare cardboard cutout someone ordered for your desk."

I looked up sharply. In the distance, I saw Raj talking to the mail room guy, gesturing animatedly.

This was going to be a very long day.