I gulp. “I may need to go buy a swimsuit.”
He snorts and raises an eyebrow. “We’re not getting wet or in the water.”
“We aren’t?”
“No. It’ll make sense when we get to the restaurant.”
A short Tube ride later,we’re walking along the bank of the Thames near Tower Bridge. There are a few boats swaying near the dock, and I see the iconic Shard in the distance. It’s lit up with a golden hue that reminds me of a lighthouse.
“This is us.”
We arrive at a nondescript warehouse-style building that’s been converted. There are a few potted plants, two windows covered with blackout curtains, and a driftwood sign hanging on the door that’s been hand painted.
“The Tank,” I read. “Clever.”
Sam chooses not to say anything as he pulls the door open. “After you, Fashion Guru.”
Has he just given me a nickname? Fashion Guru? If he has, I approve.
It takes my eyes a few moments to adjust to the dimness as we enter the building. A neon sign glows with the words “The Tank” in blue and pink. There is soft music playing, with whale calls and a few bubbly noises.
“Baker,” the hostess exclaims, rushing out from behind her podium to hug Sam. She’s a tall woman with hair slicked back into a tight low bun, and she almost stands eye to eye with him. I watch as she claps him on the back. “It’s good to see you!”
“Likewise, Miller. It’s good to see you too. Thanks for fitting us in.” He clears his throat as they step apart. “Thisis Minerva. Min, meet Ash Miller. She was in my regiment until she decided she’d rather be a civilian again.”
“What he means is that my four years of service was up.” We shake hands. Her grip is firm and self-assured. “Call me Miller.”
“Min,” I reply, still not sure what to make of her.
“Thanks again for arranging everything for me,” Sam says. “I know it was short notice”
“Not at all. I was chuffed to bits when you called. You’re actually doing me a huge favor.”
Miller grabs two menus and opens the doors behind her. I freeze in the doorway. “Whoa.” My mouth drops open.
The walls are entirely made of glass. There are hundreds of colorful dancing corals and schools of fish swimming around and above us. I don’t know where to look. There is so much going on at once. It’s a living piece of art.
That’s when I spot my first shark. Its tail swishes side to side as it gives its tank mates the evil eye. It’s about three to four feet long, but looks can be deceiving. Any shark, even a small one, can do some serious damage.
“Welcome to The Tank,” Miller says.
She leads us farther into the warehouse, which appears to have no other patrons right now. The tanks back here are deeper and look like something you’d find if you were to visit an aquarium. It’s about twenty-five feet high. I see a mermaid statue, a canoe-sized shipwreck, and larger sharks. I shiver as they swim through the shipwreck.
“What is this place?”
“My baby.” Miller chuckles.
Sam and are placed at a table set for two in the center of the circular room, cast in an otherworldly shade of dark teal.
“Hey, Ash, you back here?” a deep male voice calls out. “I have a couple of journalists from theTimeshere for you.”
“I’ll be right there,” she responds, glancing over her shoulder. Miller sets the menus down in front of us. “I’ll send Marco over to you in a couple minutes.”
“Thanks, Miller,” Sam and I say at the same time.
She walks off back toward the front. Sam picks up his menu and opens it. “She did a brilliant job curating the options so there’s something for everybody.”
Cracking open my own menu, I’m surprised to see it’s organized like a pattern catalog. There are about fifteen different tabs, each labeled for a very specific purpose. Thumbing through it, I see vegan, vegetarian, gluten free, nut free, dairy free, and a few other allergy-friendly tabs. There are also sections for meat lovers and seafood lovers. The back contains all the offerings by price, low to high and high to low.
