Chapter 12: Struggling to Stay Ahead
Jesse sat alone in the back of the warehouse, his thoughts swirling. Gus Fring had made his move, and the IRS had started sniffing around his business. It was the perfect storm, and Jesse was stuck in the middle. He was getting good at hiding things, but he knew both threats were too big to ignore for long.
The next few days were a blur of meetings, phone calls, and frantic calculations. Jesse was used to chaos, but this felt different. This wasn't just about survival—this was about keeping everything he'd worked for intact.
The IRS Investigation
Jesse's first move was to gather his accountants. He needed them to get their stories straight. But he knew it wasn't enough to simply deflect the IRS's questions. If they were serious about investigating, they would dig deeper than just numbers on a paper. They would look at his lifestyle, the way he spent his money, and if they found anything inconsistent—anything—it could all come crashing down.
"Listen," Jesse said, pacing in the office. "You've got to cover every angle. I don't care if we need fake invoices, fake transactions. Do whatever it takes to keep them off my back."
The head accountant, a greasy, middle-aged man named Paul, adjusted his glasses nervously. "Jesse, we've been moving money through shell companies, but if they start looking deeper—at your personal records, your lifestyle—they'll start seeing discrepancies. We need to be careful."
"I don't need careful, I need results," Jesse snapped, frustrated. "I didn't get this far by being careful. I got here by being smart. So you'd better figure it out, or we're all in trouble."
Paul nodded quickly. "I'll talk to our contacts at the bank. We'll set up dummy corporations, move money around… We'll make it look clean."
Jesse wasn't convinced. He'd been in the game long enough to know that nothing was foolproof. But he had no choice. He had to play this game—no matter how risky.
Meeting Gus Again
The pressure from the IRS wasn't the only thing on Jesse's mind. Gus had made it clear that he wanted a piece of the action. And the more Jesse tried to distance himself, the more Gus pressed. It was only a matter of time before Gus would make his next move.
Jesse knew that meeting with Gus again was inevitable. He'd already turned down the partnership, but Gus wasn't someone who took rejection lightly. Jesse needed to find a way to keep the cartel off his back without losing his independence.
The meeting took place in a dimly lit warehouse Gus had rented out for the occasion. The tension was thick, and this time, Jesse wasn't willing to back down.
Gus sat calmly across from him, his eyes locked on Jesse as he waited for the conversation to begin.
"I thought about what you said, Jesse," Gus began, his tone unchanging. "I understand your need for independence. But I think you'll find that it's far easier to build something lasting with the right partner."
Jesse crossed his arms, his jaw clenched. "I don't need a partner, Gus. I'm doing just fine on my own. And I'm not giving you a piece of my business just because you say so."
Gus's gaze never faltered. "You've done well so far. But as I said before, it's only a matter of time before the competition notices. You can't hide your operation forever, Jesse."
Jesse leaned forward. "I'm not worried about the competition, Gus. I'm worried about you and your people."
Gus raised an eyebrow, his calm demeanor never changing. "What do you mean?"
"I've built this thing on my own," Jesse said, his voice steady but filled with quiet intensity. "I've worked hard for what I've got. I'm not just going to hand it over to you because you've got a little more influence in the game. I control this now."
For the first time, a flicker of something resembling frustration crossed Gus's face. He leaned back, considering Jesse carefully.
"Very well," Gus said, his voice taking on a colder tone. "But don't say I didn't warn you. This game isn't just about meth. It's about power, Jesse. And you don't have the resources to handle it alone forever."
Jesse didn't respond. He knew what Gus was trying to do—he was trying to manipulate Jesse into joining forces. But Gus didn't understand. Jesse wasn't just building an empire; he was building his empire.
The Growing Pressure
By the end of the week, things were beginning to spiral. The IRS had ramped up its investigation, and while Jesse's accountants worked overtime to cover their tracks, he couldn't shake the feeling that it wasn't enough.
On top of that, the cartel's eyes were all over him. Mike Ehrmantraut had been around more frequently, dropping hints that Gus was watching him, waiting for the perfect moment to make his next move. Jesse's stomach churned with the realization that he couldn't run from both the cartel and the government forever.
But despite all the pressure, Jesse refused to back down. He knew the risks—he had always known the risks—but he wasn't going to let anyone dictate his fate. Not Gus, not the IRS, and definitely not the cartel.
He called Mike one afternoon, the weight of his decision heavy in his chest.
"Mike," he said, his voice tight. "I need to talk to Gus. I'm done playing around. I'm going to settle this."
Mike was silent for a moment, then replied, "You sure about this, Jesse? You don't want to push Gus too hard. He's a patient man, but there are lines."
"I'm not afraid of Gus," Jesse said, his voice firm. "I'm not afraid of anyone. I've got this under control."
Mike sighed. "You do what you need to do, but remember what I said."
The Tipping Point
As Jesse settled into the rhythm of his operations, it became clear that both the IRS and Gus Fring weren't backing off. The tension between him and Gus grew daily, and every phone call from the accountants felt like a reminder that the IRS was getting closer to uncovering the truth.
But Jesse kept his focus. He wasn't going to let these forces tear him down. He had already built something greater than Walter White had ever imagined. And now, it was his turn to control the game.
Gus Fring, the IRS, the cartel—they all had to know that Jesse Pinkman wasn't just some kid from the streets. He was a force to be reckoned with.