Dj Envy: Adultery Dreams Forged In Fire
The dreams felt more and more real every night, the kind that made the air feel like a warm‑up track before a drop.
DJ Envy would dream about practicing before meeting up with other Dj’s to compete in seeing had the best mix on the turn table.
He called it the "Spin to Win in the Concrete Jungle"
In the heart of Brooklyn, where the hum of subways harmonizes with the city's pulse, DJ Envy adjusted his headphones, his apartment lit by the neon glow of a flickering laptop screen that didnt compare to the hanging light. Outside, the city roared, but inside, his world was a tapestry of vinyl records, digital beats, and a dream.
For years, he’d spun in small, smoke-filled basements, he mixes the secret ingredient that made strangers move as one.
But tonight, his mind raced with a different rhythm in the dream of battling NYC’s elite in the legendary Output club.
DJ Envy wasn’t just a name; it was a mantra.
Born RaaShaun “Envy” Casey, he’d grown up in the Queens, where hip-hop wasn’t just music, it was oxygen. Self-taught, he’d scavenged for turntables at flea markets and learned from the city’s beats: the clatter of buses, the syncopated chatter of bodegas, the haunting sirens in the night.
But in a city teeming with talent, standing out meant surviving the storm of competition.
His ambition? To take the stage at The NYC DJ Showdown, an underground battle where legends were born and dreams shattered.
The night of the showdown, Output was a cathedral of chaos.
Laser grids slashed through fog, and the crowd surged like a restless tide.
The judges? A panel of legend: DJ ShadowSpark, a tech wizard known for AI-infused sets; Madam Vey, a soulful pioneer of lo-fi house; and The Rude Dude, a chart-topping EDM beast whose drops could crack concrete. Competitors were a mosaic of styles: Lopez “The Selector” Vega, a salsa-techno hybridist; Bluwave, a purist with a vinyl-only creed; and Neon Nova, a pop-meets-dubstep firecracker.
All to let him know if he was ready for David Guetta, Alok, Martin Garrix, Dimitri Vegas & Like Mike, Armin Van Buuren, Afrojack or even close to ready for a showdown with Charlotte de Witte before Funkmaster Flex!
But the real judges, are the people moving to all he gave from his left and right hands!
The first round was “Adapt or Die” for each DJ had five minutes to remix a random song.
Envy drew Billie Eilish’s “Happier Than Ever”, twisting it into a haunting jazz-house odyssey.
The crowd, initially skeptical, surrendered as she layered brass samples from a Harlem funeral march into the mix. A murmur of respect rippled through the crowd.
Madam Vey: “She’s got grit,” Madam Vey noted, nodding.
The second round, “City Sounds,” demanded a set built from local field recordings.
Lopez spun salsa over subway sounds, while Bluwave’s vinyl crackles evoked the 1980s.
Envy’s turntable lit up: he wove in the clatter of Dominique’s Brooklyn café, the cries of a Queens street vendor, and the laugh of a child in Central Park.
The result? A soundscape that didn’t just play the city, it was the city. The judges leaned in.
Envy unlocked a beam of music that could be seen from all working fast food with dreams to all the lost artist working on cars to get by.
The final drops were a one-on-one clash.
Envy faced The Rude Dude, whose reputation loomed like a skyscraper.
His opening drop—a thunderous EDM crescendo—split the crowd.
But Envy grinned, closing his eyes. He let his beat swell… then countered with a bassline that slithered like a subway snake, layering in a sampled sax solo from a 1960s Blue Note recording.
The crowd screamed as the two titans traded bars, a dance of fire and shadow.
In the end, the judges declared a tie.
But as the applause thundered, Neon Nova approached, tossing him a VIP pass.
Neon Nova: “You played the game, Envy. Now play the world.”
Epilogue: The Beat Goes On
Envy didn’t win the trophy, but he claimed something greater: a spotlight.
The next night was morning in real time, but he was booked at Le Bain, his mixtape downloaded by a record exec. New York hadn’t just heard it, and every sound was humming her tune.
In the city of dreams, the turntable was her weapon, and the beat?
Well, that was his heartbeat. And as the city slept, DJ Envy spun on, chasing the next drop, the next dream.
On the glass‑paneled wall, a neon sign flickered: “THE DAILY MIX‑UP”—a half‑joking homage to the chaos that always seemed to find its way into Envy’s life.
DJ Envy leaned back in his oversized leather chair, a bunch of half‑finished cups of cold coffee and tea steaming in the breeze.
His headphones rested around his ears, a silent promise of beats that would soon erupt onto the airwaves.
On the other side of the glass, Gia Casey paced, her heels clicking a nervous rhythm that rivaled any drum machine.
Gia: “Envy, you can’t just STOP, can you?” Gia started, voice trembling somewhere between accusation and desperation.
She stopped, stared at the blank monitor that displayed his latest mix, the waveform jittering like a heartbeat.
Envy removed the headphones!
Envy: Yes bae, What’s wrong?
Gia: “You can’t keep juggling Erica’s Instagram stories, Erica’s midnight texts, and then what?”
Gia: Let me guess, you going to go fuck her again?
She swallowed, the words suddenly tangled in a knot of jealousy and something else, something she hadn’t wanted to name.
Envy: It’s not a juggling act,” Envy said, finally looking up!
His eyes, usually so sharp behind his sunglasses, were softened by the low light.
Envy: “It’s… well, it’s a lot, but it’s also just life.
Envy: You know that, RIGHT?”
Gia crossed her arms, the leather of her jacket creaking.
Gia: !Life?
Gia: How would you like your life to start happening tomorrow in the ICU?
Envy face became Humpty Dumpty without anymore words…
Gia: Is that what you call it when you’re flirting with Erica on Snap as well, then sending an ‘I’m thinking about you’ meme to Charlamagne at 2 a.m.?”
Envy’s smile flickered by it being part amusement, part something like remorse.
Envy: Look, Gia, you know how these things work…
Envy: Erica’s fun, she’s… she’s a vibe!
Envy: Charlamagne… he’s… well, he’s something else.
He paused, and for a beat, the room felt as if it were holding its breath.
He’d been in the game long enough to know that “something else” could be a code for love that didn’t fit neatly into the boxes fans liked to assign.
Envy: I’m not… I’m not trying to hurt you. Not intentionally.
Gia’s shoulders slumped; the anger she’d built up seemed to dissolve into a tired sigh.
Gia: You keep saying that. ‘Not intentionally.’ But you keep doing it anyway!
Gia: You’re a public figure, Envy.
Gia: And you have a family, You forget?
Gia: Your personal life is like a mixtape everyone’s scrolling through…
Gia: You can’t just keep dropping surprise tracks, without telling anyone the sample source.
Envy leaned forward, his hands clasped as if to steady a trembling needle on a record player cassette Doom Box .
Envy: I know. I know.
Envy: I’ve been in the booth so long that I’ve forgotten what it’s like to step outside the soundboard.
Envy: I’m scared, Gia. Scared that if I label this…whatever this is with Charlamagne, I’ll get boxed in.
Envy: That people will think I’m trying to be sensational, that I’m using the ‘LGBTQ+’ angle as a publicity stunt.
Envy: And then there’s Erica—
He looked out the window at the city lights, the neon veins of the streets pulsing like an endless bass line.
Envy: I love her in a way that’s pure, that’s easy, that’s… comforting.
Gia: So im not comforting?
Envy: Gia you are my wife!
Gia: But the love you have for Charlamagne?”
He swallowed, the words getting tangled in his throat like a scratched record.
Envy: —that’s different.
It was raw, real, and terrifying for Envy to say. He don’t know how to make it fit into the narrative that everyone expects from a DJ with a five‑point rating in the ‘love‑life’ column.
Gia’s eyes softened. She took a step closer, the distance between them now a mere breath.
Gia:So what?
Gia: You want to keep us all guessing?
Gia: Keep us all dancing in a limbo?
Gia: That’s not love, Envy.
Gia: That’s a remix that never finishes!
A laugh escaped him, low and a little hoarse.
Gia almost cracked his egg shell head but let words escape out in all her anger and confusion instead!
Gia: Maybe. Maybe I’ve been playing the same track on loop for too long.
Gia: I’m on a new beat now, I have to be honest… With you, With Erica, With Charlamagne, With myself!
He rose, his silhouette framed against the city’s neon glow, and walked over to the glass with all his fear, while his reflection became a fractured mosaic.
Envy: You know what I’ve always said?
Envy: Music is about honesty, about feeling, the vibe and letting it ride.
Envy: I’m trying to be honest with you, Gia.
Gia: Well now is your chance to tell me what is going on with Erica?
Gia: Charlamagne…can wait!
Envy: I don’t have all the answers, but I do have a choice.
Envy: I can keep pretending this is a remix that everyone can dance to, or I can cut the track and start fresh.
Gia: Well think very clearly RaaShaun!
Gia stared at his reflection, then at the man who’d built his empire on beats that moved millions. ( Before The Breakfast Club)
Gia: And what about the people listening? The fans?”
Envy turned, his gaze landing on her.
Envy: They’ll hear the truth.
Envy: Maybe it’ll be messy, maybe it’ll be beautiful.
Envy: If we keep pretending everything’s smooth, we’ll just be playing a loop that eventually breaks.
He stepped back, his hand hovering over the mixer, fingers poised as if about to drop a new track.
Envy: Ready to drop the bass?” he asked, half‑joking, half‑serious!
Gia smiled, a small, genuine curve.
Gia: Only if you promise not to remix me into a background vocal.
The room fell silent for a moment, the only sound the soft hum of the air conditioner and the distant thrum of traffic below.
Then, as if on cue, a beat dropped—slow, deep, and unapologetically honest.
In the glow of the studio lights, the trio of lives—DJ Envy, Erica Mena, and Charlamagne tha God—merged into a single, resonant chord.
It wasn’t perfect, it wasn’t smooth, but it was real.
And as the music swelled, Gia realized that sometimes the most engaging tracks are the ones that have a little bit of dissonance, a little bit of conflict, and a whole lot of heart.
The night stretched on, the city a backdrop to the rhythm of truth. And somewhere in the mix, love was of every shade and tempo had finally found its place, not as a polished remix, but as a raw, unfiltered, unforgettable track that would echo long after the last beat faded.
But Envy had one question, before going back to his dreams!
Envy: Gia where are you going in that leather jacket?
Gia: Out and don’t wait up or worry about the kids, they ate and at grandma house!
At that moment Envy remembered he was Just A Kid From Queens, with someone who couldn’t be real about a orgasm for 10 years before wondering who was making him erupt with happiness.
The marriage was a lie that he remixed right in front of the world and it was getting closer to a boil!
Envy sat back into the chair, closing his eyes…
DJ Envy Vol.2: Doing Envy
Unlocked On January 23: "Breakfast Club Day"