Page 94 of She Used to Be Nice
Patricia turned to Avery next.
“What about you?” Patricia asked. “You have any pitches for us?”
Avery sat up straight and cleared her throat. “Yes,” she said. “Yes I do.”
Noah McCormick, Founder of Meow Monthly, Accused of Sexual Assault
By Avery Russo
When you picture a “rapist,” the image of Noah McCormick, the charismatic start-up founder of Meow Monthly, a popular subscription service providing toys and necessities for pets, probably doesn’t come to mind. A man who has dedicated his life to nurturing and caring for animals is incongruous with a person who can commit such a heinous act of violence.
But that’s the thing about rape, or at least my rape. It doesn’t always happen in the context that you’d expect. Mine didn’t happen in a deserted back alley by a stranger in a hoodie holding a knife to my throat. It happened at a crowded party during my senior year of college, when nobody noticed that Noah McCormick led me upstairs to a stranger’s bedroom and took advantage of me when I was too drunk to clearly, convincingly say no. And believe me, I tried.
After Noah McCormick appeared on an episode ofShark Tankand accepted an offer from Mark Cuban, Meow Monthly generated an extra $15 million in sales and is projected to earn double that by the end of the year, according toForbes. While Noah racks in millions for his beloved company, I’ve been suffering from horrific flashbacks, hypersexuality, and mental instability because of what he did to me. I was dating my boyfriend at the time that Noah sexually assaulted me, and after it happened, my ex broke up with me because he thought I’d cheated on him. And I didn’t say anything to change his mind. The fact that I didn’t cheat—that it was, in fact, rape—remained a thought inside my mind that I refused to speak aloud, lest it become real. Until now, I’ve kept this all a secret from my friends and family. I twisted the narrative in my head, framing the night like an irresponsible drunken hookup to protect myself from the truth. Being a cheater, to me, was less painful than being raped. But now, I’m ready to say it: I was raped.
And I’m not alone.
In the last year, four women have come forward to accuse Dave Moore, famed creator and producer of iconic dramedies such asMe & You, One Happy Valley,and10 Things I Love About You,of sexual assault. The allegations have spurred the #NoMoore movement, a hashtag that’s become a rallying cry to put a stop to the harrowingepidemic of sexual assault that still persists even after #MeToo. The movement has spread quickly throughout social media, with women like me feeling empowered to chime in to share their own stories and experiences—proving this issue is just as prevalent as it’s ever been. Today, one out of every six women has been a victim of attempted or completed rape in her lifetime, with college-aged women being an even more likely target—and yet only twenty-five out of 1,000 rapists will ever go to prison.
It’s time, finally, to say #NoMoore to powerful men getting away with these despicable acts. And maybe think twice if you were planning on subscribing to Meow Monthly for your pet needs.
Avery’s essay had gone live around ten the previous morning, racking up dozens of comments and social media shares. Now, in the conference room atMetropolitan’s office, she and Kevin watched their analytics tools closely, mesmerized by the pageviews to the story skyrocketing with no signs of slowing down. Patricia was thrilled, both praising Avery for her bravery and encouraging her to think of follow-up ideas to generate more traffic.
The traffic to the essay started climbing even higher after Noah posted a response on his personal Instagram account:The allegations made against me by my former classmate Avery Russo are completely unfounded. Avery and I had a consensual sexual encounter during our senior year of college. We were BOTH drinking at the time of the encounter, as is normal for college students engaging in sexual activity. I vehemently deny that I sexually assaulted her, in any way, shape, or form.
“What a piece of shit,” Kevin said as he read Noah’s message.
Knowing that Noah might react this way—especially if he wanted to sue for defamation later—Avery had done all the research she could to cover her bases before she published the essay. It could easily be argued that Noah’s status as a start-up founder meant he was a public figure, so for one the burden of proof onhim to sue for defamation was high. But more importantly, he would only have grounds if her accusation was false. And he knew just as well as she did that it wasn’t.
“I’m so glad we tricked him into giving us the password to his security cameras,” she said.
“Me too,” Kevin said with a smile. “Writing a convincing spear phishing email from Panasonic about ‘suspicious movement’ was my easiest coding job ever.”
The audio proof that Avery had of her and Noah’s conversation in his kitchen in Colorado probably wouldn’t be admissible in court, since it was retrieved illegally. But she had it. She had his clear admission that he’d raped her. Nobody besides Kevin knew that she had this audio, and as of now she planned on keeping it that way. But if Noah sued her, she could anonymously release it to the media or elsewhere in the court of public opinion as a blow to Noah’s credibility.
Noah had also technically given everyone at the bachelor party permission to see whatever security footage they wanted. A good lawyer could argue that Avery merely took him up on that offer.
“Are you sure that account is gone now, though?” she asked uneasily. She still couldn’t believe they’d pulled this off.
Kevin nodded vigorously, definitively. “Absolutely. Noah will never know where the email came from. I had one of my engineers do it on his grandmother’s old-ass Dell.”
“I knew Noah would jump on the message. That house is his baby.” Avery met Kevin’s gaze, put a grateful hand on his arm. “Thank you so much for helping me with this.”
“Girl, are you kidding? This was mypleasure. I will gladly help you take down any straight white man. Let alone a rapist.”
When Avery had told Kevin her story, his eyes welled with tears. He’d confessed that he’d been sexually assaulted, too, by the guy he was dating in high school. He was fifteen and had technically lost his virginity to him, but Kevin didn’t count it. Hacking into Noah’s email gave Kevin a taste of the revenge he didn’t get as a teenager.
Avery knew she wasn’t the only person in the world who’d been sexually assaulted, but it was always so easy to forget that,even as more women and men came forward amidst the #NoMoore movement. Every time she heard a new story, she remembered all over again how rarely justice was served. She hoped her essay could move that needle forward, bringing her one step closer to healing. Dr. Banshol had helped her realize that keeping her sexual assault a secret festering inside of her had exacerbated her self-loathing, as though the act of keeping it silent reinforced that it was shameful. And it had felt incredible to write it all down. She found it was so much easier to write about it than it was to speak about it in group. She felt like she’d turned herself inside out and cleansed herself of the toxins. It was how she always used to feel after a good writing session: purged and clearer-headed.
But she didn’t share her essay on any of her social media accounts like she once shared herGoldencolumns. Directing people to it herself would invite another layer of exposure she didn’t need. People could find it themselves if they really wanted to. She’d only texted it to Morgan and Charlie, both of whom reacted with hearts and words of support. And of course Noah reacted to it on his Instagram, where anyone from Woodford College who followed him would see it. Other major media outlets were covering it, too, Avery’s name splashed across headlines and homepages in ways that made her feel somewhat brave but mostly terrified. She avoided her DMs and turned all her social media private, knowing based on her experience covering the Dave Moore case what she was in for. She desperately hoped this was just the obsessive twenty-four-hour news cycle at its peak and that soon most of the public would move on. At least some of the reactions so far were positive, though, like Mark Cuban announcing his support of her and that he was taking a step back from his involvement in Meow Monthly. A couple of her female classmates from Woodford even texted her that Noah had tried similar shit with them at parties, getting them alone when they were drunk and then initiating “rough sex.”
Avery didn’t know what Noah would do now, if anything. But she’d made a choice and she had to keep going. She had a wedding to attend.
28
AVERY PEEKED OUT THEwindow of the dressing room, at the exquisite setup for Morgan and Charlie’s outdoor ceremony. Cherry blossom trees and weeping willows surrounded the ceremony space, which was filled with rows of white chairs lined up perpendicular to a long aisle that led to an altar covered in pale pink roses. Unfortunately, rain was predicted within the hour, right around the time of the start of the ceremony. Avery hoped it would hold out a bit longer, though the sky was gray and overcast in a way that signaled an impending storm. All morning, Morgan was stressed about the possibility of getting married in the alternate indoor ceremony space, a sterile-looking conference room with smelly carpeting and unflattering fluorescent lighting.
“Everything’s going to be fine,” Avery said calmly as she held a mug of Yogi stress relief tea to Morgan’s lips. Morgan didn’t want to move too much while getting her hair and makeup done, so Avery spent the last hour alternating between feeding her tea and a mimosa, both to relax her. “Happy thoughts.”
