All of the work we'd been doing was starting to pay off. After working in a cramped studio, Chris made a deal for a much larger facility. It would be in, of all places, a former bowling alley. It was 2 stories, built in the late 50's, and even had a private entrance. So we wouldn't have a repeat of the "Paris smuggling" that had been our ticket to the big time. Chris spent the next month supervising the design of the place. We made a nice deal to sell all the bowling gear (but saved one lane's worth for ourselves, how many photographers can boast of an in-studio bowling alley?) and gained a huge new workspace complete with upstairs offices.nnAs if all this wasn't exciting enough, Chris got a call that sent us in another direction.nn"Hey, Hollywood! What've you got planned for next month?"nn"Let me check my calendar," I said with a mouthful of bacon cheeseburger and looking at a blank desk "Gee, nothing."nn"Remember Chuck Tyler?" he saidnn"Tyler? Tyler? Oh yeah! He's the cheapskate who wouldn't let us ride to Vegas for the Tigress show." nnI was telling the truth. Chuck said there was no room on the private jet to Vegas for us, and THEN claimed the record company switched planes on him when we suddenly noticed the huge Gulfstream jet at the Vegas airport while we were flying home on a packed commercial flight.nn"Well, Chucky-boy is making up for it.