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“All right, kid. What’s with you? You’ve been acting weird.” Mike settles on the steering wheel of his El Camino as they eat sandwiches together that he had made for their lunch. Jesse, though quiet and surprised by the simple gesture, accepts the sandwich with a look in the elder’s direction. The depleted balded man had just parked the car further away from the laundromat while Pinkman’s rinky-dink car was in the shop after a reckless drive the previous night before. This perplexed Mike more than anything, he didn’t know why Jesse called him before a tow truck. “Wrecking your car, sounding like you’re in a real fit last night. You’re not using again, are you?”
“No, man, I’m clean…” Jesse shakes his head and fidgets with the sleeves of his hoodie in the hot New Mexico sun. “It’s not anything about that.” Mike takes a moment to blink at the man holding out answers from him.
“Then what is it?”
“Don’t laugh, all right. It’s going to sound ridiculous at first.” Mike takes a patient bite, peering over at the younger man. His face was never clear with any amusement besides the pride he had in caring for his goofy granddaughter. Jesse takes this moment to press on. Jesse sits with the sandwich in his lap, thinking hard with an index knuckle pressed to his lip. “Okay, so… I’ve been thinking over everything a lot. I’m not going to sit here and complain about how life sucks or anything,” Jesse prefaces before he cracks his knuckles and uncomfortably clears his throat. His blue gaze fixed somewhere on the dashboard or passed the windshield outside the laundromat.
“Yeah, life isn’t a cakewalk for anyone. Especially not in this line of business…” Mike grants, tonguing pieces of sandwich out of his gums.
“I didn’t want to kill him, that Gale guy. He seemed alright. We still use his coffee maker. It makes pretty damn good coffee. I thought coffee was coffee before, but shit, dude. This guy made the best, most complicated coffee machine ever.” Jesse’s eyes shake looking away still.
“Best cup of coffee I’ve ever had.” Mike agrees with a genuine interjection.
“Yeah, so it feels kinda messed up. Y’know? Mr. White’s always stringing me along in this, ending things, and asking me to come back to be partners again. Playing me like a fool with his dumb mental games. I have to psyche myself up and always, always. Someone ends up dead or I get my ass handed to me. His DEA brother-in-law or a gun to my head from some methed-out cartel guy getting high and crazy on the supply killing men for nothing. Or- Or that fucking thing with Gus.” Mike nods, understanding where this direction was going. Jesse gives an uneasy breath.
“I didn’t see it playing out that way either. Gustavo is ruthless when he needs to be, but he’s pretty fair with his employees until his interests are threatened. He keeps it clear and to the point. Get in and get out for the day. You never get used to seeing that much blood...” Mike shakes his head, thinking back to when he supervised watching them dispose of it. Offering bits of advice and staring at Walt when the chemist thought his pride and intelligence were undermined at any turn. Like any idiot could take care of a mess flawlessly even in his stupor state of shock with his gaping mouth collected flies like an asthmatic feline wheezing for each gasp of breath. That angry, spiteful look in his eye that squinted in anyone's direction was high and above any other life at play when it came to Walter's impeccable brain of tricks and science tidbits. “So, this is about Gale. You regret taking his place and coming back.”
“No, I didn’t want to kill him but I knew what I got myself into. Even if Mr. White is a dick and knows how to rope me back into coming around again. It was still my choice.” Mike nods, respecting that he took responsibility and the man's strong sense of integrity that always carried in his voice, at least. “I asked him if he wanted to go riding go-karts with me yesterday after our cook.” Go-karts. Mike looks over at him midbite.
“Walt? Go-kart riding?” Mike tries to utter the idea and conjure up any reality where he could imagine such a thing. He couldn’t imagine him enjoying that whatsoever, awkward knees in khakis fumbling to sit in, and the too-serious look driving around in a helmet on his bald head. It almost summons a mirthless laugh from Mike.
“Yeah, it’s cool, yo. It doesn’t matter, we were in a spot after everything where I thought we were cool, you know. Getting closer despite the whole business thing. I’ve asked him to grab a beer with me before. He only takes the bait when someone’s reselling our product. He sucks at smoking cigarettes but I thought that was, like, a weird old dad effort to try?” He shakes his head. “I just wanted someone to talk to and we’ve been at this together since the beginning. Way before he even bothered to tell me he had cancer. Before he told me why we were even doing all this for.” He shakes his head. “I just thought that I could try…”
“Kid, Walt is a dickhead. I don't see why you stick up for him, but he does have something of a soft spot for you. He also likes that you look up to him and that you’re easy to manipulate. It makes him feel good, okay? Hate to break it to you but you’re not going to get what you want out of him, it doesn’t work both ways like that in his world. He’s in it for him and you’re an accessory to make it happen.”
“An accessory? What like a purse?” Jesse scoffs even though he knew Mike was giving it to him straight. Mike scratches at his face and wipes the mayonnaise from his face with a crispy, crackly napkin. Jesse nods. “I know that he is. It’s always been like that as partners. He's smart but he's always been a hardass as a teacher too. I thought maybe since there are times when he’s been real with me, he could see me more as an equal with how I cook.” Mike turns to settle in and looks at Jesse as he trails off, doubt even in those words. There was always something underlining even the niceties. Lies on top of lies and hidden truths. Mike didn’t need to bring attention to it. Jesse’s shoulders drop. Mike sighs.
“Eat your sandwich, kid.” Jesse looks down after forgetting it was in his hands and tears off the semi-soggy bread to fish into his mouth. “I’m not really one for go-karting much either.” Jesse laughs.
“No kidding. You ever do anything fun?” Jesse pesters at him more as a jest than a jab. Mike gives him a steady look.
“I usually don’t bring my work around my family, but you’re good around kids. I’m not much of a go-karting fan, but my granddaughter’s been wanting to since she was little.” Jesse stops chewing and swivels his head in awe.
“Your grandkid?” He echoes with a full mouth of food. Mike gives a careful nod.
“Sure, Kaylee’s twelve now, she can handle the go-karts, that crazy kid… We’ll do lunch on a day off when I take her for the day next time. You’re an old work friend. My family believes I’m retired. Discharged, disbarred really, but they figure I have a pension and I keep busy with odd jobs.” Jesse nods along still chewing. He’ll run a cover story by Mike if he ever had to get closer, explaining to his kids or something, but he really didn’t think he’d be going to any family dinner any time soon. His own family hadn’t invited him to dinner since he last invited himself over a year ago.
“This is still so crazy, you’re going to let some addict that cooks meth at your mystery workplace in on a day with Grandpa?”
“Don’t make me regret it, she’s been wanting to go too. I’m not getting into one of those things. You do fine with kids. You actually care about them. I trust you not to make an ass out of yourself too badly that she wouldn't laugh at or that you'd hurt her. Just keep your mouth shut about my family and keep to us doing gardening together.” Mike looks away dismissive and easily while Jesse struggles to chew on this new plan while he struggles with the bread at the roof of his mouth. “Under one condition.”
“Yeah, man- Mike. Anything, what’s up?” Jesse immediately brightens up, glowing with respect and honor to be allowed to be someone so close to Mike.
“You come to me for this kind of thing instead of Walt. I don’t trust him as far as he throws his phlegmy, cancer coughs.” Jesse nearly chokes on his food, trying not to laugh.
“Dude! He has cancer.”
“That’s what I said.” Mike nods simply and tosses his own trash in a plastic bag that he plans to throw into the trash bin he parked nearby. Jesse got the hint to eat the rest quickly before tossing the cling wrap that came with his free meal in the bag. Mike offers a smile that couldn’t quite reach his eyes that Jesse barely caught a glimpse of.
“Seriously, Mike. Thanks…” Mike waves it off and claps a firm hand on Jesse.
“All in all, you’re a smart kid. You’re all right, Pinkman.” Jesse smiles faintly as Mike gets out. “Now get the hell out of my car, we got work to do.” Jesse is quick to follow him out, grabbing up the few things that he would repocket before slinging into the locker spaces below the German laundry facility.