Princepin
It was the definition of insanity, doing something again and again, expecting different results. But Jesse knew of only one way to live and he was sticking with it. He was going to cook until it killed him, meth or death. After all, what did he have to lose? His house? He’d lost it once already. His girlfriend? Jane was gone and getting his life ‘straight’ wasn’t bringing her back. His life? He didn’t care about it anymore, even though Mr. White obviously did. But what did he care about Mr. White? Mr. White would forget about him like everyone else.
So without Saul’s help, Jesse contacted Clovis and Joe, getting himself an untraceable RV. It was sleek and dark on the outside, roomy on the inside. Jesse swore to them that it would never enter the city limits of Albuquerque. The remains of his funds went to Badger in Skinny Pete for supplies and ingredients. He was setting up for a pseudo cook. If Mr. White wanted to trademark Blue Sky for himself, Jesse would respect his wishes. Besides, pseudo was the way to go for Jesse’s modest operation.
Only two weeks out of the desert and Jesse was standing in front of his new rolling meth lab. New RV, New Jesse, he told himself. Things were going to be different without Mr. White. Things were going to go his way, for better or for worse, and if he was going down at least he’d be going down alone. Now all he needed was distribution.
Badger and Skinny Pete were pretty uneasy about the idea, since Combo and all. Jesse didn’t push them on it. It would probably be better for Jesse if they weren’t involved. If they got hurt on the job, then that would be on Jesse. No, he needed people he didn’t know or care about on this.
There were no drug dealers “in power” around where Jesse and Mr. White once ruled. Not yet, but pretty soon there would be. That wasn’t to say there weren’t criminals in the area. Jesse personally did some digging, scouting for the mot organized gang. Fortunately for him, there was a new biker club in town, Sons of Anarchy, New Mexico charter.
“And these guys, they’d do it?” Jese asked, lounging in his recliner. “I mean legally they’re just a motorcycle club.”
“Dude, the Sons of Anarchy are as dirty as they come, yo!” Badger exclaimed, high as a blimp. “You hear about all the shit that went down in California? They were running guns and coke and dealing with the cartel.”
“Cartel’s bad, Badger. I don’t want no fucking heads rolling on my door,” Jesse said soberly.
“Well, that was a different charter. These guys probably aren’t running with the cartel.”
“Probably isn’t gonna cut it,” Jesse replied.
“Jesse, it ain’t like you got a ton of options,” Skinny Pete said. “I mean, you could always let me and Badger push it.”
Jesse looked from Skinny Pete to Badger.
“Fine. Let’s set a meet.”
***
So without Saul’s help, Jesse contacted Clovis and Joe, getting himself an untraceable RV. It was sleek and dark on the outside, roomy on the inside. Jesse swore to them that it would never enter the city limits of Albuquerque. The remains of his funds went to Badger in Skinny Pete for supplies and ingredients. He was setting up for a pseudo cook. If Mr. White wanted to trademark Blue Sky for himself, Jesse would respect his wishes. Besides, pseudo was the way to go for Jesse’s modest operation.
Only two weeks out of the desert and Jesse was standing in front of his new rolling meth lab. New RV, New Jesse, he told himself. Things were going to be different without Mr. White. Things were going to go his way, for better or for worse, and if he was going down at least he’d be going down alone. Now all he needed was distribution.
Badger and Skinny Pete were pretty uneasy about the idea, since Combo and all. Jesse didn’t push them on it. It would probably be better for Jesse if they weren’t involved. If they got hurt on the job, then that would be on Jesse. No, he needed people he didn’t know or care about on this.
There were no drug dealers “in power” around where Jesse and Mr. White once ruled. Not yet, but pretty soon there would be. That wasn’t to say there weren’t criminals in the area. Jesse personally did some digging, scouting for the mot organized gang. Fortunately for him, there was a new biker club in town, Sons of Anarchy, New Mexico charter.
“And these guys, they’d do it?” Jese asked, lounging in his recliner. “I mean legally they’re just a motorcycle club.”
“Dude, the Sons of Anarchy are as dirty as they come, yo!” Badger exclaimed, high as a blimp. “You hear about all the shit that went down in California? They were running guns and coke and dealing with the cartel.”
“Cartel’s bad, Badger. I don’t want no fucking heads rolling on my door,” Jesse said soberly.
“Well, that was a different charter. These guys probably aren’t running with the cartel.”
“Probably isn’t gonna cut it,” Jesse replied.
“Jesse, it ain’t like you got a ton of options,” Skinny Pete said. “I mean, you could always let me and Badger push it.”
Jesse looked from Skinny Pete to Badger.
“Fine. Let’s set a meet.”
***