Masters was invariably described as a veteran media journalist, which she joked was a euphemistic way to call her old. She’d worked as a staff writer for the Washington Post and a contributor for Vanity Fair, Time, and Esquire. She told me she’d heard the rumors about Weinstein “forever.” Once, years earlier, she’d even confronted him about them. “Why are you writing this shit about me?” he’d roared at her at a lunch at the Peninsula in Beverly Hills. “Why do you say that I’m a bully?” “Well, Harvey,” Masters recalled telling him. “I hear you rape women.” “Sometimes you have sex with a woman
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