Brown Sugar Divine's Cafe & Bakery, page 1
Brown Sugar Divine’s Cafe & Bakery
By S.A. McClellon
This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.
BROWN SUGAR DIVINE'S CAFE & BAKERY
First edition. July 5, 2024.
Copyright © 2024 S.A. McClellon.
ISBN: 979-8227893154
Written by S.A. McClellon.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Brown Sugar Divine's Cafe & Bakery
Johnny Cakes
Brown Sugar Divine
Johnny | May 2022
Chris
Johnny
Brown Sugar Divine
Chris
Brown Sugar Divine
Chris
Johnny
Lisa
Chris
LGBT Sub
Johnny
Chris | “As outlined in Article 24.005, Texas Property Code, you are hereby notified that three (3) days after delivery of this notice, we demand possession of said property listed above, now occupied by you, unless you cure the following leasing violations.”
Brown Sugar Divine
Johnny
Sunnie
Chris
Johnny
Lisa
Chris
Alfred
Pretty-In-Pink Drink
Johnny
Chris
Sunnie | Tuesday morning, July 2nd
Brown Sugar Divine
Johnny
Chris
Johnny
Alfred | September 2024
Brown Sugar Divine
Johnny
Acknowledgements
Brown Sugar Divine’s Cafe & Bakery Playlist | Page 1: Brown Sugar Divine
Brown Sugar Divine’s Cafe & Bakery Playlist | Page 2: Johnny
Brown Sugar Divine’s Cafe & Bakery Playlist | Page 3: Chris
Brown Sugar Divine’s Cafe & Bakery Playlist | Page 4: Bakehouse Ball
Brown Sugar Divine’s Cafe & Bakery Playlist | Page 5: Our Autumn Days
Brown Sugar Divine’s Cafe & Bakery Playlist | Page 6: Farewell Bakehouse Ball
Brown Sugar Divine’s Cafe & Bakery Playlist | Page 7: Honorable Mentions
About The Author
For the ones who have found themselves,
For the ones still finding themselves,
And for the ones who dream big.
Get yourself a treat.
You’ve earned it.
Johnny Cakes
Sheet Cake
3 cups cake flour or all-purpose flour
1 ½ cups granulated sugar
1 tsp salt
1 tsp baking powder
2 medium zested lemons
3 eggs
1 cup butter
1 cup eggs
1 tsp vanilla
⅓ cup sour cream
1 ½ cups lightly pureed strawberries
3 drops red food coloring
3 drops yellow food coloring
BUTTERCREAM ICING
1 cup unsalted butter
4 ½ cups powdered sugar
1 ½ tsp vanilla extract
⅓ cup heavy cream
Salt, to taste
3 drops red food coloring
3 drops yellow food coloring
White shimmer sugar
INSTRUCTIONS
In a bowl, mix dry and wet cake ingredients together, then evenly separate into two bowls. Add yellow food coloring in one mix and red food coloring in the other for pink and yellow.
In a greased 9x13 inch pan, pour in the yellow and pink cake mixes on top of each other. Use a toothpick, knife, or desired tool to marble the batter.
Bake for 25-35 minutes at 350 F or until the edges are brown. Check the center with a toothpick to make sure it’s cooked thoroughly. If the toothpick comes out clean, take out the cake and allow it to cool completely before applying buttercream icing.
In a separate clean bowl, mix buttercream ingredients. Separate evenly into two separate bowls, then add yellow and red food coloring for pink and yellow. Apply desired amount of white shimmer sugar.
Once cooled, fill two piping bags with yellow and pink icing. Traditional decoration is alternating yellow and pink horizontal stripes. But decorate how you see fit.
Slice the finished cake into even squares, serve with an optional side of fresh strawberries and enjoy!
Brown Sugar Divine
Hello, hello, my beautiful children!
I am the delicious, the delectable, and the succulent Brown Sugar Divine! Cozy up with your softest blanket and your hottest beverage while I sit with you through a sickening tale of triumph, tribulations, and the most jaw dropping, hair-raising, mind-boggling fight against the terrible forces of pure unadulterated shade!
Okay, it’s not that dramatic. But that at least got your attention, didn’t it? Now let’s skip the fluff and move on to roll call!
Of course, you know me: Brown Sugar Divine, the fabulous drag queen mascot of Brown Sugar Divine’s Cafe & Bakery in Denton, Texas! I’m made of sugar, spice, and everything nice! Now, I know what you’re thinking. A drag queen bakery? In Texas? Whose crazy idea was that? Meet Jonathan Isaacs, the brains behind this sugary sweet operation! A strong independent black boy with a dream. I wouldn’t exist without him, and I simply can’t have that! Do you think I look this good just to exist as a distant memory? But I digress. This isn’t entirely about me. This poor dear doesn’t give himself nearly enough credit. Being a black gay drag queen in Texas is no easy feat. But I haven’t seen him go down without a fight yet!
The ones responsible for creating this beautiful specimen are none other than Alfred and Lisa Isaacs! Lisa is Johnny’s culinary inspiration. She loves her some Boyz II Men and she loves her some bakin’! Most of all, she loves her son. But one drastic mistake led by her husband, Alfred, changed the trajectory of their bond.
But surprise! Johnny’s not our only main character. Meet Christopher Kam, a depressed bass player with not much going for him! With a useless marketing degree and a dead-end serving job, this young man is ‘Down In The Dumps’ personified. But his world is completely turned upside down once he finally decides to go outside and touch some grass. Be prepared for a lot of gay panic in the first half.
Now that you’ve met the main characters, on to the homosexual supporting cast!
First up is Macabre Majesty: the emo non-binary muscle mommy with legs that can crush a watermelon! I’ve seen them do it too! Behind the persona is Johnny’s cousin, Sunnie Rogers (they/them pronouns). Sunnie’s seen a lot and been through a lot. But in the end, they always land on their feet.
Next is Kiki Chanel: the Broadway baddie who’s practically one big performance away from making her off-Broadway debut as Roxie Hart in Chicago. Off stage, she’s Kiara Shaw (she/her pronouns), a soft-spoken sweetheart and one of Sunnie’s romantic throuple partners.
Third on the roster is Mama Bear: Baker By Day and BDSM Goddess By Night. She puts up a sweet front, but knows how to dish out a good punishment if you catch my drift. And they can do the splits better than I can touch my toes (Lord knows Johnny needs to stretch). Under the fabulous persona is Atsa Chee (she/they), a fashion guru with a soft launch Navajo clothing line for two-spirit/gender non-conforming individuals.
Now for our non-drag friends and foes!
Eugene Chee (he/him pronouns) is Atsa’s twin brother and in a poly throuple with Sunnie and Kiara. His cool attitude and smoking hot body make him a dream man out of a cheesy romance novel! He’s the frontman and lead guitarist of his and Sunnie’s indie cover band, Our Autumn Days, a top notch cook and an even more top-notch DJ.
Tori Gonzales (she/her pronouns) is my most dedicated regular! She’s the keyboard wiz for Our Autumn Days and happens to be Chris’s smoking buddy (no smoking in the cafe, please and thank you). She along with Han the drummer, Angel the rhythm guitarist, Sunnie the vocalist, and eventually Chris the bassist makes up Our Autumn Days!
You’ve met the lovely laundry list of protagonists, but who’s the antagonist? That would be none other than Grace Kam. The Capital ‘K’ Karen who’s allergic to minding her own damn business. She is the dastardly landlord trying to ruin everything Johnny and I have put our blood, sweat, glitter, and tears into! And to top it all off, her poor son, Chris, is mixed into her homophobic mess!
How will Johnny save his bakery? How will Chris stand up against his shady mother?
Sit back, relax, and indulge in the bittersweet story of Brown Sugar Divine’s Cafe & Bakery!
Johnny
May 2022
I would’ve stayed in that kitchen all day if I could have. With a steady hand, I rolled the balls of chocolate chip cookie dough into nearly perfect circles. Each one was full of soon-to-be gooey chocolate chips. My mouth watered as I could already smell the warm sugary goodness before I even put them in the oven.
My mom, Lisa, watched me work with pride. It was our age-old tradition as mother and son, baking our favorite treats to our hearts’ content while she blasted her favorite Boyz II Men CD on the old AM/FM CD player she’s had since before I was born.
From the moment I could stand on my own two feet, I was always in the kitchen with Mom whenever she baked. She taught me everything she knew about making the perfect cakes, cookies, pies, puddings, and everything else she had under her belt. For Mom, it was a fun hobby. But for me, I had something much
At sixteen years old, I started saving up for my own bakery. But it wouldn’t just be any bakery. It would be something much more. What that “something” was, though, I was still trying to figure out. In the meantime, I honed my skills in my parents’ kitchen while getting my associate's degree in business at North Central Texas Community College in Denton, Texas.
Mom and I stopped for a quick dance break to Please Don’t Go. It was her favorite song, and I had heard it so many times that I nearly knew the whole thing by heart. I was never much of a Boyz II Men fan, but even I had to admit that they had some real bangers. Mom took the main vocals while I carried the background. With all intents of tooting my own horn, we ate those vocals! Perks of being two former choir kids.
As I swayed my hips to the rhythm, I finished rolling the last of the dough, leaving one large ball to the side.
“What’re you gonna do with that one,” Mom asked. “It’s a lot bigger than the rest.”
“That’s for us to share later,” I answered. I opened the preheated oven and a wave of intense heat hit my face. It hardly bothered me anymore, having opened and closed that oven a million times before. I slid in the cookies and all that was left to do was wait.
Baking was my meditation. Even though it was something that Mom and I shared, it was a skill and a pass-time that I had morphed into my own. Mom always thought it was a good thing for young men to know, “To make them appreciate working in the kitchen,” as she put it. But my dad, Alfred, needed a little more convincing. Dad was raised in that rough and tumble lifestyle, living by the idea of men getting their hands dirty by fixing cars and mowing lawns and barbequing and whatever stereotypical man thing you could think of. I could do all that stuff, but I could also make a mean batch of my late grandma’s banana pudding, God rest her soul.
I hadn’t officially come out to my parents. How could I, being raised in a Black conservative community where holding hands with the same gender was considered on par with bumping and grinding in a grocery store? For a long time, I hadn’t realized my own sexuality. I was too afraid to ask any questions or outwardly express what I was even feeling. I had no choice but to keep my mouth shut until I could move out. I assumed Dad had no idea. Unless it was something that piqued his interest (which wasn’t a lot of things), he minded his business. But Mom knew me like the back of her hand. When I was a kid, she’d always tell me, “You ain’t like all them other boys. You’re gonna be somethin’ special, baby.” Of course, that’s what all Black mothers say about their sons aside from the different variations of “You just like your daddy.” But she wasn’t far off.
I had all the typical signs of a gay kid. I hardly played with toy cars or action figures, and gravitated toward dolls and dresses and anything else deemed feminine. Instead of “boy colors” like blue or black or green, I was all about pink. I wanted to drown in pink. If pink were a person, I’d marry them. I was bullied in school for being “girly” and having mostly female friends. Even my own Black community didn’t accept me because I was “white washed” and “spoke properly”.
As I got older, Mom would ask for my opinion on certain outfits before she and dad went on their date nights. Dad gave his usual unenthusiastic “You look nice,” while I fussed over every little detail to make sure she looked and felt her best. In hindsight, Mom was right on the nose. Dad never approved. He did his best to “toughen me up”. But I started recognizing those patterns over time, and dismissed them entirely.
As Mom and I waited for our cookies to finish, Dad pulled up in the driveway from his shift at the post office. For years, he worked his way up from sorting mail in the back to being the manager of the US Postal Office on Colorado Boulevard. For as long as I had known the man, I hardly ever saw a genuine smile on his face. Dad came into the house, tired from another long day, and the bright yellow kitchen that smelled of love and sweets turned gray and dull, and was overtaken with the smell of must and misery. It was like he was a cold spot in the room, sucking the life out of every space he walked into. Even Mom’s favorite Boyz II Men CD sounded slightly more depressing and muffled with Dad’s aura.
I had always felt bad for my parents. Neither of them studied past their GED because they couldn’t afford it for so long. They gave up the dreams that they never spoke about in the name of practicality. If it wasn’t steady money, it wasn’t worth their time. After they met, married, and earned a decent living together, Mom got pregnant with me. She worked in a bakery once upon a time. It was how she fell in love with the craft. Dad, on the other hand, never talked about his history. My whole life, I had no idea who he was when he was my age, or what he wanted. Nineteen years later, I was left with the responsibility of making something of myself as a First Generation student saving up for my own business.
Dad stumbled into the door, letting out a groan as he stretched. “I’m home,” he called out wearily. Mom and I could hear his loud grunt as he plopped down in his La-Z Boy.
“Welcome home, babe!” Mom called. She turned down the volume on the CD player to keep from bothering Dad.
“Hey, Dad,” I said. “How was work?”
“Same ol’, same ol’. Don’t nothin’ ever happen at that post office.” Dad turned on the TV and aimlessly flipped through the channels. “What y’all makin’?”
“Chocolate chip cookies,” Mom answered. “Want some? They almost done.”
“Nah. Y’all know I don’t like all that sweet stuff. What’s for dinner?” Dad asked.
“Whatever leftovers we got in there,” Mom answered. Dad grunted with approval.
Finally, the edges of the cookies were golden brown. I opened the oven door and a sweet aroma wafted through the small house. Just like that, the room became bright again, and sugar coated the kitchen walls. Mom and I took a deep breath in unison. We had made these cookies a million times over, and it always smelled like we were making them for the very first time.
“Now that’s some good stuff right there,” said Mom.
“I’m telling you,” I answered, “when I open up my bakery, you’ll be the first person I hire.”
“Mhm, I know that’s right,” Mom nodded enthusiastically.
Dad came into the kitchen and rummaged through the fridge for dinner. He settled on the meatloaf with mashed potatoes and asparagus Mom made the night before. As he fixed his plate, I could feel his eyes on me as I handled my handiwork with great care and set the cookies on the cooling rack. Each one was perfect in its own way, with little lumps of chocolate peeking out from the surface. I was in love with my craft, and I was dead set on making my dream a reality. I worked day in and day out at my retail shifts, saving up every little penny I could get over the years. God bless my parents for not making me pay any bills, even though I was insistent on it once I started working as a teenager. I certainly had enough funds to make it happen. But Dad’s real concern laid in my future. I could hardly blame him as his only child. It’s only natural for parents to be concerned about their kids’ future. Dad always had a nagging worry about my dream falling apart as soon as I set out to build my business. But another part of me wished he didn’t speak that into the universe.
“Hey, Johnny,” said Dad. “I know you like all this bakin’ and all...”
My smile dropped as soon as I heard that infamous line. I had heard it a million times before, and I knew I’d be hearing it a million times more. But as long as I lived under my parents’ roof, it was something I just had to deal with.
“Yeah,” I answered blankly.
“But... Do you have a backup plan for if things maybe don’t work out? I’m not sayin’ you're doomed to fail or nothin’. But you never know what’ll happen.”
I could only sigh as I put the big spare dough ball in the oven.
Mom sighed as well and rolled her eyes, “Alfred, will you stop all that already?”
“No, Lisa,” Dad answered defensively. “I wanna hear a real answer this time. Not ‘I’m figuring it out’ or any of that. What’s your backup plan in case things go under?”
I closed the oven door, nearly slamming it shut, and stood up straight to face him. I knew what he was getting at, and God knew we were both stubborn in our own right. Deep down, part of me felt that he resented me. I was following the path I paved for myself while he was stuck in his mundane routine of going to work, coming home, and asking his wife what was for dinner. It pissed me off something fierce when Dad confronted me like this. But most of all, I just felt bad. I knew both Mom and Dad could be happier, and they had sacrificed too much and were merely just getting by.
