Page 137 of Game Misconduct
Sloane
My heel tapsonce beneath the boardroom table, a soft click only I can hear.
The screen at the end of the room shows a clean spread of stats and projections. Attendance is up. Social engagement is up. Even merchandise sales have ticked higher since the season opener.
And still?—
Still, I can feel the way they’re looking at me.
Dean, of course, is seated at the other end of the table, elbows on the arms of his chair, fingers steepled like he’s running this meeting instead of me.
The other board members hover in degrees of silence and deference, some flipping through the printed decks in front of them, others pretending to follow the numbers on the screen.
But Dean doesn’t pretend. Dean waits.
“I’d like to shift into community engagement next,” I say, letting my voice slice clean through the room. “The numbers are in from the October activation series, and response has been stronger than projected. Midtown skate clinics were at full capacity. We’re seeing strong socialtraction on both Instagram and TikTok. Sponsors are happy.”
I tap the remote. The screen changes again, now a clean mockup of the new campaign.
“For December, we’ll roll out the Vipers Holiday Drive. We’re partnering with Hope & Home Atlanta to collect toys for underserved kids across North Georgia. Players will be present at the pickup event. We’ll be hosting it here—on home ice, post-practice, open to the public. PR will hit next week. Charitable sponsorships are already in review.”
A couple nods around the table. A few murmurs of approval.
Dean, of course, stays silent. Until he doesn’t.
“And the players are all confirmed?” he asks casually, eyes not on the deck but on me. “No pushback on appearances?”
“No,” I say. “Attendance is required, barring injury or medical restriction.”
“And Lasker?”
The question drops like a stone in the middle of the table.
I don’t blink. “He’ll be there.”
Dean lifts one eyebrow. “How’s he doing?”
It’s a simple question. Measured. Professional.
But the pause that hangs after it isn’t.
“He’s contributing,” I answer smoothly. “He’s top five in save percentage across the conference. Locker room reports are neutral to positive. He’s stayed out of the penalty spotlight.”
I hear myself say it—clinical, practiced, bulletproof—but my pulse still kicks once, hard.
Because I know what Dean’s doing.
He’s not asking about stats.
He’s poking the bruise. Watching for the flinch.
“He’s an expensive gamble,” Dean says mildly, flipping to the next page of the printout. “We’ll want to make sure the optics hold, especially with press invitations going out for the toy drive. Cameras will be everywhere. Social interns tend to wander.”
“I’m aware,” I say evenly. “We’re monitoring optics closely.”
Dean smiles. Thin.
Another board member clears her throat. “Sloane, while we’re on the subject of performance…”
