Chapter 11: Gus Fring's Pressure
As the weeks went by, Jesse grew more confident in his operation. His empire was expanding—his meth was in high demand, his car dealership was turning a solid profit, and everything seemed to be falling into place. But beneath the surface, there was tension building. Gus Fring was always watching, always calculating.
One evening, as Jesse was overseeing the distribution of another batch, his phone buzzed with an incoming message. It was from Mike.
"Fring wants to meet. Tomorrow. Be ready."
Jesse sighed. He knew what this meant. Gus wasn't the type to invite someone into his world without a reason. This wasn't a friendly chat—it was a test. And Jesse had no intention of letting Gus push him around.
The Meeting with Gus
The next day, Jesse found himself sitting across from Gus Fring in a quiet, upscale restaurant on the outskirts of Albuquerque. The tension in the air was palpable, but Gus remained as calm and composed as always, his eyes focused on Jesse with the precision of a hawk.
"Jesse," Gus said, his voice smooth as silk. "I must say, I'm impressed by what you've built."
Jesse leaned forward, his elbows resting on the table, his gaze unwavering. "You've been keeping an eye on me, huh?"
Gus smiled faintly, though it didn't reach his eyes. "I don't keep an eye on anyone, Jesse. But I do stay informed."
Jesse nodded, the weight of Gus's words sinking in. "So what's this meeting about? I'm not exactly a fan of playing games."
Gus's smile faded, and for the first time, his eyes grew serious. "I understand you're building something… significant here. And I respect that. But there are things that need to be addressed, Jesse."
Jesse didn't flinch. He'd been through worse meetings than this. "Like what?"
"You see, Jesse," Gus began, his voice slow and calculated, "I've built a very successful business over the years. I've worked with many people, some of whom have had ambitions… similar to yours."
Jesse's gut tightened. He wasn't sure where this conversation was going, but he knew it wouldn't end in his favor if he wasn't careful.
"You've become a valuable asset to the operation," Gus continued, his tone almost patronizing. "But I've also noticed a certain… independence in your actions. I don't tolerate independent operations unless they're part of the greater plan. And right now, Jesse, you're stepping outside the lines."
Jesse's jaw clenched. He wasn't about to let Gus walk all over him. "So what's it gonna be? You want a piece of the action?"
Gus didn't hesitate. "I want a partnership. A collaboration, if you will."
Jesse took a deep breath, letting the words sink in. "A partnership," he repeated, testing the sound of it. "What, you want me to give you a cut of my business?"
Gus's gaze never wavered. "I want to ensure that your business grows… in the right direction. If you choose to go your own way, there will be consequences. I'm offering you an opportunity to make this work, Jesse. An opportunity to scale this operation, without interference."
Jesse's mind raced. This was what Gus did—he took control, manipulated the situation to his advantage. But Jesse wasn't a pawn in his game.
"You've got a lot of nerve, Gus," Jesse said, his voice low but steady. "You think I'm just gonna fall in line because you're offering me some partnership?"
Gus leaned in slightly, his calm demeanor never wavering. "I think you'll make the right choice, Jesse. The alternative, however, is not one I would recommend."
Jesse sat back, his heart pounding in his chest. He could feel the weight of Gus's words pressing down on him. But he wasn't about to let this man dictate his every move. He'd made it this far on his own, and he wasn't going to give up his independence now.
"You don't scare me, Gus," Jesse said, his voice steady. "I've got my own game going, and I'm not looking for a partner."
Gus didn't flinch. "Very well, Jesse. But remember, I don't give second chances."
IRS Investigation Looms
Jesse's mind wasn't just occupied by Gus Fring. The IRS was another shadow that loomed over him, waiting for the right moment to strike.
He'd done everything he could to hide the origins of his wealth—setting up shell companies, laundering money through the dealership, and hiring accountants to keep everything above board. But deep down, Jesse knew it wasn't foolproof. The government had ways of digging into things, and eventually, they would start asking questions.
It wasn't long before those questions began to surface.
One afternoon, as Jesse was preparing another batch in the warehouse, his phone buzzed. It was an unknown number.
"Hello?"
"Mr. Pinkman?" a cold, professional voice asked. "This is Agent Rodriguez with the IRS. We've been reviewing your financial records, and I'd like to ask you a few questions about your reported income and business operations."
Jesse's heart skipped a beat. He didn't miss a beat, though, his mind already working on a response. "Sure thing. What's this about?"
Rodriguez continued, "We're looking into discrepancies in the reported income for your car dealership. Specifically, we're interested in how the business is being funded and why the revenue doesn't match up with the expected figures based on your current assets."
Jesse cursed under his breath but kept his voice calm. "I'm sure it's just a misunderstanding. I'll have my accountant get in touch with you. Everything's above board."
"I'll be expecting that call, Mr. Pinkman," Rodriguez said. "We'll be in touch."
As the call ended, Jesse's pulse raced. He knew he had to act fast. His first instinct was to get his accountant on the line, but that wouldn't be enough. The IRS wasn't stupid—they had the resources to dig deeper.
The Cover-Up Begins
Jesse knew he needed to do more than just redirect the IRS's attention. He needed to create a new layer of protection. Something that would make his operations look completely legitimate.
He started looking for ways to strengthen the facade of his car dealership. He worked with his accountant to inflate the value of the business, creating new "assets" that would account for the excess income. They set up a series of fake transactions with "partners" who were willing to help cover for him—money moved through different accounts, making it harder to trace.
But even as he worked on covering his tracks, he knew it wouldn't be enough. He had to make sure no one—especially the cartel—found out that he was being investigated.
It was a tightrope walk. One wrong move, and everything could collapse. But Jesse was good at this. He'd survived worse.